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fuckaperioddrama · 22 days

Text

Française vs. Italianò

Smut | Theodore Nott | French Fem!Reader

Author’s Note: A little silly.

Proofread, but there might be mistakes.

Masterlist

Minors DNI | 18+

—-

Your knuckles were turning white. Glancing down at the color changing in your skin you couldn't help but drift over to the dark red bottle in your hands. You were gripping it with such force you began to wonder if the glass would break or perhaps you could break it another way. By smashing it over your Italian boyfriend's stupid head.

Theo looked no different from you. His hand was gripping the shelf next to him so harshly you thought he might pull it down. That would sure send the poor older woman up front into a panic. A whole shelf of her wine shattered on the floor as you shatter another bottle over Theo's head.

Theo took a deep breath to calm himself down. You and he had had this same argument many, many times before. On Friday nights you and Theo would go to Hogsmeade, and pick up food, and a bottle of wine before heading back to Hogwarts. The food was always picked up at a neutral location. You and Theo decided to stop eating French and Italian food together after the unfortunate incident of your 7th date.

Theo took you to his favorite Italian restaurant and you made one comment about how the food would have tasted better if they used butter for this certain dish instead of oil because that's what the French do. Theo went ballistic.

You two were broken up for four days, both too stubborn to apologize. It wasn't until Blaise intervened that you finally got over yourselves and made up. After that, you two decided you would probably just get something else next time. Wine, however? Neither you nor Theo were giving up your wine. You were supposed to alternate, one week getting Italian and the other French, but this week there seemed to be some debate on whose turn it was.

Theo let go of the shelf, dropping both hands to his side as he raised his chin and took a deep breath. Once he felt a touch calmer he lowered his eyes to yours, staring at you, and trying to remember why he was with you in the first place. "We're getting the Italian wine."

"No, we got the Italian wine last week. That means we're getting the French wine this week!" Your grip on the bottle narrowed even more and you felt your palm begin to sweat against the glass as heat rose in you.

"Odio i francesi," Theo muttered under his breath as he turned away from you and grabbed a bottle of wine from the shelf. (I hate French people.)

“Je déteste les Italiens. Et je parle italien aussi, idiot,” you fired back, taking a step closer to Theo. You'd sooner drop dead than walk out of the store with an Italian bottle of wine. (I hate Italian people. And I speak Italian too, idiot.)

Theo thought back to those 4 days he spent without you early into your relationship. Those days were long and awful, but could a man really give up his principles for the woman he loves? Would he be willing to sacrifice his livelihood in order to make you happy? Typically, the answer would be yes but there wasn't anything that was going to come between him and the right wine. "What if we get both? I'll get the Italian wine and you get the French wine."

Theo thought this compromise would save the relationship crumbling before him, but you were unmoving. He watched your vision narrow in on the bottle in his hand as your face twisted into disgust. "I'm not bringing Italian wine into my room."

"I'm not bringing French wine into mine," he argued growing both even more angered at this conversation and also growing exhausted by the never-ending problem.

"Fine. Then I'll get me the good wine, you can drink whatever shitty excuse that is and we'll just go our separate ways for the night." You held up your bottle of wine, shaking the contents in Theo's face before making your way to the register. You were tired of the conversation too.

Why did you have to fall in love with an Italian man?

Approaching the register, you forced whatever smile you could onto your face as you approached the sweet woman behind it. She had always been nice to you and Theo. Plus it wasn't her fault you couldn't stand your boyfriend. "Is this all?" she asked.

You nodded your head and just as you placed the bottle down on the counter you felt a force pull you back. "We're still deciding," Theo snapped. You shot the spooked woman an apologetic look as Theo dragged you to the back of the store. You watched as all of the wine on the shelves faded into a blur of white, red, and pink before Theo finally pulled you back into the bathroom and locked the door behind you.

"I'm not changing my mind, Theo, So whatever bullshit you're about to spew out of your dumb mouth just-"

"Shut up," Theo said as he rushed forward, gripping your neck in his hand as the impact of his lips hit yours. The kiss was harsh and frenzied. His mouth moved against your own as the hand around your neck began to softly close in. Theo pulled back from the kiss, holding your neck in place while his other hand gently cupped your face, a contrast to his other that began to apply more force. "Why can't you ever just shut up," Theo muttered, running his thumb over your bottom lip before he tucked his own between his teeth, staring down at you.

Theo removed his hands, placing them on your hips. A new wave of consciousness washed over you as your lungs filled with air. He began to walk forward, pushing you back until you hit the hard surface of the sink behind you. He steadily lowered his head down until his nose was brushing against yours. "Jump."

The argument between you and Theo was long forgotten. Honestly, you didn’t even remember why you were angry anymore. But Theo remembered. He remembered the attitude, the way you looked at him, the way you walked away from him. So when you took a second too long to follow his orders he took matters into his own hands, gripping your hips as he lifted you and placed you on the counter. Theo was out of patience.

You gasped at the sudden movement and Theo swiftly moved to cover it by placing his lips on yours once more. He glided to your pants, popping the button open and you lifted your hips to aid him in taking them off.

“We have to be quiet, Tesoro,” Theo whispered as he pried your thighs open. He moved his lips down to your neck, taking the skin between his teeth before sucking in harshly. You gasped once you felt Theo’s fingers drag across your clothed slit. Theo lifted his other hand up, forcing two fingers into your mouth as he tilted your head to look at him. “I said be quiet.”

“Perché devi sempre mettermi alla prova?” Theo cursed as he swiftly moved your underwear to the side, running his fingertip through your folds. (Why do you always have to test me?)

His finger began to curl against your clit, moving up and down as he shoved his fingers deeper into your mouth. “Lo fai apposta? Vuoi essere trattato così? Come una puttana?” He hummed as his breath pushed against your face. “Suck,” he ordered. (Do you do it on purpose? Do you want to be treated like this? Like a whore?)

Theo’s eyes fixated on your mouth as you began to follow his orders. He quickened his pace on your clit, flicking his fingers against it harshly. You squeezed your eyes shut as a whimper left your mouth. He pressed down, adding pressure as he basked in the sight of you. He watched your eyelashes flutter as your lips wrapped around his index and middle finger, and drool dripped from your chin. Theo felt the fabric of his pants begin to grow tighter and tighter against him, but his mind wouldn't let him focus on himself. Not when he could focus on you instead.

He dropped his fingers down from your now throbbing bud, using the slickness of your folds to help push them inside of you. Your back arched as you began to gag on the fingers he had pressed against your tongue. He removed them from your mouth and you felt your hips begin to jolt, trying to chase your release.

"You seem desperate, cara mia," Theo breathed as he began pumping his fingers in and out of you, going at a relentless pace. "You weren't desperate when you were walking away from me earlier." Theo angled his fingers to the side, feeling the sponginess of your walls push against him as he hit that one spot over and over again.

"Tell me how much you need me, bellisima." Your knees locked as your legs began to quiver, a pressure building in you that needed to be released. "Look at me," Theo said causing you to open your eyes and meet his. The blue of his iris sparkled as he took in your glazed-over stare. "Tell me how much you need me."

"I need you, Theo," you gasped, as he added another finger. Your mind ran quiet, only concerned with the feeling of Theo working you open.

"Tell me how much you love me," he asserted, watching as you came closer and closer to falling apart before him.

"I love you, Theo." Crying out, you finally gave in releasing all over Theo's fingers. Your breath staggered with each feeling of pressure being released.

Theo continued his pace only withdrawing his hand once you finished. You watched him as he lifted his fingers back to your mouth, obediently parting your lips when he pushed his fingers passed. Theo began to undo his belt as you sucked your juices clean from his fingers.

As soon as he was done pulling down his zipper he popped his fingers from your mouth, pressing his lips to yours and moaning as he took in your taste. He eagerly pushed his clothes down his legs, grabbing his cock as be began to pump it in his hand. "Ti amo." (I love you.)

Theo lined himself up with your entrance rubbing his tip through your folds before pushing himself into you. He went gradually, letting himself sink in. Your head rested against his chest, feeling your walls stretch as his hips moved inward.

You both gasped feeling Theo fully enter you, your thighs moving back as his skin pressed against yours. Theo gave you time to adjust, letting you get used to the feeling of him. You ran your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly as you forced his head back and kissed him. He moaned into the kiss and grabbed your legs, taking that as his signal to go.

Theo ground against you, letting his hips roll as he pumped his hard cock in and out of you. Each stroke was slow but grew harder and harder as they continued. He pushed his tongue into your mouth, silencing your moans as he started to go quicker, beginning to brutally sink his cock into your cunt.

You threw your head back and Theo in anticipation placed his palm over your mouth as you cried out in pleasure. His hand that was still wrapped around your thigh lifted your leg, placing it flush against his waist as he angled himself inside you, letting out a low moan as he felt your walls hug his excruciatingly hard cock. "Mi stai prendendo cosi bene," he strangled out before his mouth hung open from the sensation. (You're taking me so well.)

Theo moved his hand from your mouth bringing it to your neck. He gave it a soft squeeze to draw your attention to him. You locked eyes with Theo, seeing the redness of his cheeks that highlighted the beads of sweat running down them. His gaze still held so much frustration, so much anger. Maybe you shouldn’t have walked away from him earlier.

Never wavering your gaze, you wrapped your other leg tightly around him drawing him deeper inside of you and tugging him forward. A soft whimper left Theo’s lips as he felt his sensitive tip push against your cervix. “Oh, fuck,” he staggered out before making a sound that sounded animalistic, the low frequency ringing in your ear. Theo’s grip on your neck compressed using it as leverage when he began to propel his large cock into your cunt.

You choked out a gasp grabbing onto Theo’s wrist as your vision blackened. A fire ran down your abdomen and you felt your body dissolve into static. “Theo I…I.”

Theo skimmed his lips against your ear, setting a soft kiss against your lobe. “Lascia andare, amore mio.” (Let go, my love.)

Tears began to build in your eyes and a wave of electricity went through you. Your mind went fuzzy as you felt your body release. Theo’s breathing began to stagger and his hips began to shake. Your walls tightened each time you covered his cock, milking him to his finish.

Theo let go of your neck, holding onto your waist as he rested his head against your shoulders. Still coming down from your climax, you pushed your face into his neck, catching your breath in his scent. “Never walk away from me again,” Theo whispered.

“I won’t.”

You leaned yourself into him, taking comfort in his presence as he continued pumping into you. Running your hands down his back, you gently pressed a kiss against his neck. “Donne toi à moi,” you encouraged, gently tracing your fingernails along his shirt. (Give yourself to me.)

Theo pushes a couple more times before coming to a stop, his muscles spasming as he ejects himself into you.

“Ti amo.”

“Je t'aime.”

(I love you.)

---

The woman behind the register smiled at you and Theo as you approached her. She seemed a little weary due to Theo's prior outburst, but her shoulders visibly relaxed when Theo grinned back. She then brought out the bottle of wine you had previously placed on the counter. "Have we made a decision?" she asked.

Theo intertwined his fingers into yours before placing a different bottle right next to it. "We're going with the Tenuta dell’Ornellaia," he said as he reached for his wallet.

"Italian wine tonight?" she chuckled, grabbing the money from Theo. She was well aware of the constant bickering between the two of you, having witnessed it every week.

"Italian," Theo assured smugly, squeezing your hand in his before looking over at you. "Right?"

You turned to Theo, locking eyes with him before glancing back to the woman before you. "Right."

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weeknd-ogoc · 6 months

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PASSENGER PRINCESS ✧ ˚ · . CHARLES LECLERC

summary: in which charles tries to teach his girlfriend how to drive on her twenty second birthday. face claim: claudia tihan contains: some fluff, oral receiving (male), spoiled!reader, public and unprotected sex. authors note: i'm currently 21 and still don't have my license just because i have anxiety✨ so anyways i thought this would be fun to do & it's the king's 26th birthday today! 🎈

ⓘ this user is charles leclerc's passenger princess!

(italics are conversations in the past and the smaller words are the english translation!)

having a father, brother, and a boyfriend who were professional drivers meant you were basically driven wherever you wanted when you were with them. in the small chance you weren't with them, you had a chauffeur that was hired by your father to drive you wherever you needed to go.

"papa te va matar cuando te vea." your older brother told you as he turned to look at to see the dress you had picked out to wear for your birthday dinner. (dad's going to kill you when he sees you.)

you fixed your lipgloss through the mirror and shook your head no. "please you know he won't and you want to know why..."

he began parking the car and shook his head since he already knew what you were about to say, the same thing you've been saying since you were a little girl.

"porque yo soy su hija favorita." (because i'm his favorite daughter)

carlos knew you were right since you were basically the baby of the family so he just smiled. "well i think you look hermosa as always." (beautiful)

the both of you looked outside the car and saw there was paparazzi already waiting outside the restaurant. your father and brother's career truly opened up a whole bunch of opportunities for you.

"a model?" your father asked as he looked over the photos you had taken for a brand a week before. "why not just continue your studies mija?"

after a bit convincing your father gave you permission to pursue a modeling career so at the age of eighteen your face was on multiple magazines, you did your best to make a name for yourself instead of being known as carlos sainz's daughter or carlos sainz jr's younger sister.

a knock on the window pulled the both of you out of thought, it had been your boyfriend of a year.

he opened the door for you and instantly hugged you once you got out of the car. "happy birthday my love..." he said as he gave you a squeeze. "you look beautiful!"

your brother had formally introduced you to charles when he had joined ferrari, of coarse you had already knew him since he was your brothers competition and he had also seen you around but never introduced himself to you.

before you could let out a thank you, your brother looked down to his outfit. "why thank you, i really tried dressing up my best just for you." he joked which earned a laugh from the both of you.

before asking you out almost two years ago — the two of you were fuck buddies for a few months. let's just say charles had fell hard for you within three months of seeing you, he was certain there was just a little more to your relationship on his side when he had overhead lance tell your brother he wanted to ask you out during a party after a race in italy.

"i can't answer for her but i mean go for it." he heard your brother tell lance. "i know you're a good gu-"

so after hearing part of that conversation he quickly looked for you and when he finally did he saw lando offering you a drink with his charming smile.

“we can rain check that date.” he heard you tell him.

"really..." he mumbled out before walking over and excusing the both of you. "yeah i'm going to borrow her for a bit."

charles knew that lando and you had been super close since you guys were almost close in age. he also knew that before him, you and lando had a little fling going on.

he took you to a restroom close by, where he roughly pressed his lips onto yours and pulled up your dress from the bottom. "of course you don't have any panties on."

"quick access for you." you had told him as you undid his belt and pulled down his pants.

“for me or for lando?”

he saw as you smirked “oh don’t tell me you’re jealous…” you slowly licked the pre-cum coming out of his tip. “big boy.”

he groaned as he lifted you up. "nope, just wanted to remind you who you really belong to belle." (beautiful)

you had helped him slip it in and he began fucking you up against the wall — this wasn't the first time you guys hadn't used protection but he always managed to pull out on time since you weren't on any birth control.

"c'mon my love, make a mess on my cock..." he mumbled out as he fastened his pace, cock still hitting your g-spot. "you're so fucking wet.”

"ch- charles..." he hears you moan as you began digging your nails into his shoulders. “i’m so close.”

if the music outside wasn’t so loud everyone in the club would be able to hear your moans.

“that’s not even a dress…” your mother argued with you “carlo-“

your father quickly hugged you and handed you a gift bag. “mi niña bonita, feliz cumpleaños!” (my pretty girl, happy birthday.)

your mother let out a sigh since your father had yet to see the outfit you had on. growing up, your parents made it their mission to make sure your siblings and you dressed appropriately at all times. so once you moved out a few months after you turned eighteen, you decided to dress the way you wanted to.

charles loved that your family was so supportive of you and he really loved it when they welcomed him with open arms. before they had welcomed him into the family, he had made sure it was okay with your brother to be with you and when he had his permission he made sure to go all out on this.

"flowers?" you asked him confused since he had never bought you any.

"these past few months with you, have been the greatest an-"

anyways after that your dad took a bit convincing since you were his baby but it all worked in the end.

"i'm telling you i've tried!" your brother carlos told your boyfriend. "she stayed in parking the entire time."

you rolled your eyes as they both laughed you. "carlos let it go, it was seven years ago! plus you were yelling at me..."

you brother rolled his eyes and mumbled out an "no i was not, dramática." (dramatic)

"it was making me nervous!"

you remembered a few years back when your father had sent your brother to teach you how to drive since he couldn't do it himself. at first carlos really didn't want to but everyone knew your brother had a huge soft spot for you.

"dad was yelling at me!" you complained to your brother. "i can't work under pressure, if i'm truly your favorite sister you will help me."

he groaned and finally nodded. "ay pues te ayudaré, pero no tengo ningún favorito así que cierra el pico." (i'll help you but i don't have any favorites so shut your beak.)

the pair continued making fun of you and you huffed at them but before you could shoot back an embarrassing story of them your cake had arrived and everyone began singing to you.

twenty two!

♡

after the dinner charles had driven you to an empty parking lot. you squinted your eyes at him and gave him a smile as your hand started sliding down towards his pants. "are we doing it?"

"tempting but no i'm teaching you how to drive, now switch seats."

you tensed up as he got out the car and walked around to your side. he helped you out of the car and walked you to the other side.

"babe i don’t want to do this!" you nervously told him as you got in the drivers seat. “are you really trusting me with your ferrari?”

he didn't respond and closed the door, walking over to passenger side.

“i’m telling you the only driving i should be doing is driving you crazy.”

he chuckled at your nervousness. “i’m telling you it’s easy.”

you began to remember the time your father was trying to teach you and you reversed into a tree — this little memory caused your palms to begin sweating.

he sat back in the passenger seat and clapped his hands. "alright what do you do first?"

you groaned as you put your seatbelt on. "have my lovely boyfriend drive us back home so we can go have sex."

he gave you a little look and you groaned again. "alright fine, you check the mirror." you pulled down the sun visor and did a little smile. "and boom you see i still look beautiful."

he let out a chuckle and helped you close the sun visor. "you always look beautiful..." he began leaning in and you smashed your lips onto his but before you could undo your seatbelt he backed away. "c'mon the faster we finish, the faster you can drive us home and have really good sex."

you let out a little whine and put your hands on the wheel. "how the hell do you even start this? shouldn't we have started with a normal car?"

"i'm helping you, don't worry."

charles was a bit excited for this moment and had high hopes he was definitely getting his fifty dollars from carlos.

"im telling you, she won't get out of parking and you'll just be driving her back to your house..."

after two minutes of watching you with your hands on the wheel, he sighed. "if you want i can help you t-"

you swatted his hand before he could reach for anything. "no! i can do it, stop pressuring me."

he sat back down and waited a bit longer.

finally you had the car moving super slow, and you squealed. "thats it, i'm going to get my license and start driving us everywhere from now on."

which earned you a "huh?" from charles, he didn't expect you saying that since he loved driving you wherever but overall he was happy to see you this excited, you conitunued driving at a slow pace and finally decided it was time to speed it up just a little more.

"watch the bu-" before he could finish his sentence you had already hit the parking bumper.

"oops." you quietly let out. "sorry..."

for a second charles panicked and looked at you as he grabbed your hand to scan you. "are you alright?"

if anything were to happen to you while being with him, he knew your brother and father would most definitely murder him — not only that but he would never be able to forgive himself for letting you get hurt.

"i'm fine, are you?" you asked and he nodded before going outside to check the damage.

after a few minutes he sighed and opened your side of the door. "just a scratch, i can have it fixed tomorrow."

"did you like it? was that fun?" you lightly joked.

"umm yes..." he helped you out the car and wrapped an arm around your waist. "as much as i enjoyed being your passenger princess this time..." he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. "you failed this test my love."

you sighed before kissing him. "i guess you're stuck driving me wherever we need to go."

he kissed you once more before deepening the kiss and you placed your hand onto his growing bulge. "and i guess the only driving you should continue doing is driving me crazy."

before you could lead him to the backseat he shook his head and carried you up onto the hood of his car. "here?"

he nodded before kissing you again and lifted up your dress from the bottom just a bit. "here."

thank you guys for reading, my requests are open!

last imagine: luna, sol y mar | cs55

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writingworlds · 2 months

Text

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐆𝐄 (𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟑)

Pairing(s): Charles Leclerc x Porsche!reader

Summary: The Porsche Princess, that nickname has followed Y/N around since birth. And who better for a princess than a prince?

Warning(s): more shitty google translate

Author’s Note: Once again thank you for all the love on this!!! I think there’s going to only be one part to the series after this one and then I’ll head onto other things 🥰🥰.

I hope all the tags work (some of them didn’t work last time and I’m unsure of how to fix it). Again, let me know if you would liked to be tagged for the final? part of this and maybe any of my future writings!!

Much love 🥰🥰

Pierre Gasly

Charles…why are you appropriating French culture 🤨🤨

Charles Leclerc

I lost a bet man

Pierre Gasly

You?? Lost a bet?? To who???

Charles Leclerc

Y/N

I was hoping I’d win

That way I’d have an excuse to ask her out to dinner

Pierre Gasly

You poor poor lovesick fool

Ask her out anyway

Charles Leclerc

No way

My ego is bruised 🫠

Pierre Gasly

…..

I can’t believe this

Charles Leclerc

Pierre…don’t you dare

Pierre Gasly

Don’t I dare do what?? 😁

Charles Leclerc

PIERRE GASLY WTF

QU'EST-CE QUE TU AS FAIT

Pierre Gasly

You’ll thank me later 🙏🙏

Mila Bolinsky

Y/NNNN

GIRL ANSWER ME

Y/N Porsche

WHY ARE WE SHOUTING

Mila Bolinsky

You know how you said if Charles won the bet he would take you out to dinner?

Y/N Porsche

Yeah?

Mila Bolinsky

Look at this!!!

You know who Pierre is best friends with

Charles

That little Ferrari man wants to go out to dinner with you

Y/N Porsche

🤨🤨 Charles has my number he could’ve just texted me

Mila Bolinsky

Y/N…he’s a man

Who lost a bet

His ego is probably bruised

Y/N Porsche

Men…such fragile creatures

Mila Bolinsky

Yes yes

But disregarding that

Text Charles

Ask him out to dinner yourself

Y/N Porsche

And why should I do that?

Mila Bolinsky

Bffr

You’ve had a crush on him for forever

You made a BET with him

If that’s not how you flirt then I guess I don’t know you as well as I thought I did

Y/N Porsche

…..you got me there

I’ll text him

yn_porsche

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yn_porsche a good night out 🥰🥰

view all comments

milaaa I TOLD YOU

milaaa also stunning as usual 😘😘

papaporsche Y/N, meine Prinzessin ... ist das ein Date? Muss ich jemanden bedrohen?

yn_porsche Nein, nein, nein, du musst niemandem drohen, Papa 😭😭

pierregasly 😁😁

username 🤨🤨🤨

username now that’s suspicious

username this wouldn’t have anything to do with your tweet would it?

username is…is mother taken

username I SEE YOU LURKING CHARLES

username he’s just like us fr fr

charles_leclerc

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charles_leclerc 🌹🌹

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pierregasly say thank you Pierre

charles_leclerc no

milaaa 🤭🤭

papaporsche ….

username is that….IS THAT A PORSCHE LOGO I SEE

username ARE THOSE THE SAME ROSES Y/N HAD

username OMG I THINK THEY ARE

username BF CHARLES ERA???

username jaw is on the floor

username Pierre and Mila in the comments I fear the best friends are cooking something

username they better be 😭

username the Porsche princess with the Ferrari prince?? Yes please

Fred Vasseur

While I hope you had fun on your date you can’t be showing the Porsche logo Charles

It’s bad for branding

Charles Leclerc

My apologies boss 😅

Fred Vasseur

Oh shush, no apologies really needed

Now go get that girl

Charles Leclerc

Yes sir 🫡🫡

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

Prestige Taglist:

@405rry @chasing-liberosis @h4miltonforza @escapism-writer @spilled-coffee-cup @dutifullyannoyingfox @or-was-it-just-a-dream @nessacarty1 @cherry-piee @nomie-11 @believeinwarrior @needtokeepfeelingsincheck @blushmimi @valntynebaby @loloekie @lightdragonrayne @woozarts @formula1cl16 @meadhbhcavanagh @marshmummy @aquangxl @justdreamersdream @trouble-sistar @iamahallucinationnn

#charles leclerc x reader #f1 social media au #f1 fanfic #formula one imagine #charles leclerc #writingworlds #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x you #f1 x reader

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heizlut · 2 months

Note

Hallo! I am very new to tumblr, so please excuse any mistakes i may make qwq

I really enjoyed your Venti and Kaeya story(ies)! Could you do something similar for Lyney with the addition of a breeking kink? He doesnt have cat ears or a tail like his sister- instead, the feline side of him shows through his obsessive need to breed :x

jshdhdhd i’ve been thinking about this like crazy and i’m so glad we got to clarify a few details over messages before i wrote this! again, welcome to tumblr! i’m so glad you stumbled across my page🫶🏼 (was also totally inspired by the yaoi when writing this lmfao)

Jinx

cw: breeding kink, textured feline tongue, hypnosis, rope-play, mentions of pregnancy

tags: sub fem!reader, dom!lyney with recessive feline traits, mostly proofread

a/n: here's a lil translation for the pet names- "mon chaton"= my kitten; "mon cherie"= my beloved; "bonne fille"= good girl; “ma bonne fille”= my good girl

nsfw under the cut

m!list here

જ⁀➴✧:･.˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.・જ⁀➴✧:

Ever since becoming his girlfriend, Lyney found he had a particular jinx; all because one evening he fucked you so hard backstage before his performance, filling you so full of his sticky cum, and his show ended up being the greatest one yet. The next performance, he wanted to test out his little theory; fucking his cock into your tight cunt til his cum was leaking out and dripping down your thighs. Lyney had yet another show stopping performance.

When he told you his theory, you had simply laughed, “Seems like you just want to relieve some pre-show nerves. I doubt it’s some type of jinx, my love.” The cute little pout on Lyney’s face made it hard to take him seriously. You give him a kiss on the cheek, “I don’t mind this little routine though. If it means getting fucked so full of you before a show, I’ll do it.”

Tonight was a performance that Lyney knew he couldn’t fuck up. It was meant to be another show stopper with prominent Fontaine guests in the audience. You made your way to his dressing room as you usually did. Lyney was seated at his vanity touching up his hair when he saw your reflection behind him in the mirror. The corners of his lips curl upwards, “There she is~”

You smirk in response, “I have something special for you tonight…Master Lyney~” Lyney turned his body in his chair to face you as you begin to undo the buttons of your dress. The soft material slips off your body, revealing a red lacy lingerie set with a black garter belt that matched his. Lyney’s lips part, taking in every inch of you with his violet eyes. Lyney almost wanted to curse his innate feline genes for almost pouncing on you right then and there. The way you looked right now and using that title he'd teased you with before was almost too much for him to bear. He wanted to be able to take his time with you, or at least as much time as he could before he had to make his way to the stage.

Lyney gets up from his seat, sauntering over to you with a sultry look in his eyes. His fingers reach out, tracing the lacy edges of your lingerie, "Look at my sweet girl dressed so provocatively... Wearing my extra garter belt no less." He runs his finger under one of the straps and pulls it back and releases, letting it lightly slap back against your skin. Your breath catches in your throat as he does so. Arousal pooling against the thin fabric of your panties when he leans in, his lips grazing yours as he speaks in a low tone, "I have something special for you too, mon chaton~" Lyney backs away from you, the lingering touch from his lips sets you ablaze with desire.

Lyney digs through his pocket and pulls out a carnelian pendulum with a mischievous glint in his eyes, "Be a sweetheart for me and keep your eyes on crystal, yes?" You draw your bottom lip between your teeth and nod, fixing your gaze on the pendulum. Your eyes follow the swinging pendulum as Lyney begins to speak, "Relax your mind and your body... Focus on the sound of my voice..." He continues on as you feel your mind go blank. He smirks at your dazed expression, now having you fully under.

He softly caressed your cheek, running the pad of his thumb across your soft lips, "Be a good girl and get the purple rope, yes?" All you can do is nod and follow his instructions. Lyney's cock twitches as he watches you bring back the rope he requested. He takes it from you hands and moves behind you, his lips against your ear, "Arms behind your back, mon cherie~" Of course, you comply. His voice filling your mind like a sweet melody that was only meant for you alone. A tingling sensation pricks at your skin as the ropes loop through your arms just tight enough for you to be forced to stay in that position, unable to touch him.

Lyney's fingers trace your skin as he moves to the front of you, admiring how gorgeous you looked. He takes hold of the straps of your pretty bra between his digits, using his pyro vision to carefully singe them just enough to let a piece of them burn away. The straps fall loose to your back and he singes the front connecting the cups. Your perky breasts are left exposed to his lustful gaze as the bra makes a soft noise when it lands on the dressing room floor. You squirm a little in your spot as the need between your legs begins to consume you. Your eyes stuck on his violet ones that burn with deep desire, "Be still, mon chaton."

Your lips part as you let a soft moan slip when Lyney cups your breasts in his nimble hands. He squeezes and massages them, mesmerized by the way the plushness squishes between his fingers. He lowers himself and leans forward taking one pebbled nipple into his mouth; his rough feline tongue flicking and swirling around it. Your body tries to fight against the hypnosis, desperate to tangle your fingers in his hair as his rough tongue does its work on your body.

Leaving your breasts sore and swollen, Lyney kisses down your body softly til he's eye level with your clothed cunt. His eyes flit up to your face, pleased to see you looking so needy. He taps your thigh twice, "Spread out so I can enjoy my pre-performance meal." You comply, taking a small step to the side to give him more room. Lyney smirks, "Bonne fille..." He places his hands on your thighs and licks a stripe through your thin panties. He lets out a broken groan at the scent and taste of you as your arousal soaked the material. Lyney tugs at the panties until they rip and glide down, now hanging loosely around one ankle.

Your moans fill the small dressing room as he dives in between your folds, lapping up your juices with his rough tongue. His grip tightens on your thighs as you shake with pleasure; his tongue relentless against your sensitive clit. White hot pleasure courses through you as you cum on his tongue, making him snarl as he overstimulates you, unable to get enough of your taste. "Please, Master Lyney~!" you cry out, feeling as though your legs are about to give out from underneath you. The title you give him and the way you taste and smell kicks his feline instincts into full gear. Lyney needed to breed you.

Lyney straightens up and tugs you by your garter belt to his vanity. He bends you slightly and tangles his fingers in your hair, pulling your head up to look at the reflection of you both in his mirror. "Oh, mon chaton... See the way you look right now? I simply can't resist~", he chuckles as you whimper when you're forced to look at how dazed and desperate you are for him. He undoes his pants, tugging them down just enough for his twitching cock to bob free against your ass.

Lyney's hands travel down your curves and to your round ass, giving your cheeks a light squeeze. He spreads them apart, giving himself a better view of your leaky pussy. He moves his hips, letting his fat pink tip rub against your cunt and gather your arousal. Lyney stills himself, his tip pushed against your wet entrance as he leans over, locking eyes with you in the reflection, "Keep your eyes on us." Unable to do anything other than what he says, your eyes widen as a pretty cry leaves your lips as he pushes himself inside of you.

His fingers dig into the fat of your hips as he fucks into you deep and hard. Lyney completely loses it when he sees your eyes flutter and drool slips from the corner of your mouth as you keep your eyes on the lewd display. His pace becomes harsh as the tip of his thick cock bullies your insides over and over, "Need to breed you nice and full... Need to see your cute stomach swell with my children- Fuck, mon amour...-" His hips stutter when he sees the white ring of cum that had formed at the base of his cock. Lyney lets out a breathy chuckle, running his fingers though his hair, “Creaming around my cock? You must really want me to breed you, huh”

You’re so fucked out the only way you can respond is by moaning over and over. You looked angelic and so fucking slutty that when your eyes crossed in pleasure and your tits bounced in time with his thrusts, Lyney releases a whiny moan. With a final thrust, his hot cum floods your fluttering pussy. His cock throbs as he regains his senses, groaning as he pulls out and his cum begins to leak from your cunt.

As much as the sight of his cum leaking from you filled his ego, Lyney needed it to take. Quickly grabbing a silicone prop, he pushes it inside your pussy with a curved smile, "You shouldn't let my seed go to waste. We need to keep you stuffed full 'til my cum takes..." Your eyes meet his devious ones in the vanity mirror, still looking for more. A sudden knock on the door causes Lyney to snap from his thoughts as Lynette's voice sounds from the other side, "Lyney, it's time."

"I'll be there in a moment!", he calls back and then lets out a sigh. His gaze returning to your dazed one. Your were still under his hypnosis... Lyney's voice is saccharine when he speaks his next words, "Sit still at my vanity and don't even think about covering up or fucking yourself on the prop that's keeping my cum in you." A sly smile forms on his lips when you let out a small whimper when you sit, making the silicone prop push deeper inside of you. Lyney presses a slow kiss to your lips and smiles, "Ma bonne fille..." He readjusts his clothes and fixes his hair one last time before heading out for his grand performance,

And what a performance it was. A standing ovation, thrown flowers covering the stage, and raving reviews from the prominent figures of Fontaine; all thanks to you. Lyney walks back to his dressing room and his lips curl up when his gaze lands on your shaking, restrained body still sat as his vanity as your own arousal had pooled in the chair. You were his lucky charm, his special jinx; and oh how he would reward you for being so perfect.... Breeding you time and time again.

જ⁀➴✧:･.˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.・જ⁀➴✧:

a/n: i turned myself on just writing this lol also plz if you’ve read the yaoi i referenced, let’s be friends lmao

#lyney smut #lyney x reader smut #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #lyney x reader #genshin lyney #genshin impact lyney

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obsessedwithmiguel · 3 months

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My headcanons of O'Hara in a relationship.

▪︎ Not very affectionate at first.

▪︎ If he were to kiss you, it would mostly be on the forehead, hand or lips.

▪︎ He doesn't mind showing that he has a partner and that that partner is you. Only he is reserved with his private life and doesn't like nosy people.

▪︎ If you speak Spanish, you're screwed. He would be speaking Spanish to you almost most of the time.

▪︎ If you don't speak Spanish, he will teach you. There will even be times when he would try to remember an English word because he only knows it in Spanish. Of course, he refuses to use a translator, much less Duolingo.

▪︎ He is more patient with you and more expressive than with anyone else.

▪︎ He might be like he is, but he can get romantic when he wants to.

▪︎ He DEFINITLY is the big spoon when you cuddle. No excuses.

▪︎ He might teach you how to dance Bachata, Salsa or/and Merengue.

▪︎He will not openly say that he has a partner. He will just stay quiet while enjoying your company. Don't get him wrong, he dreamily doesn't like people getting into his private life, that's all.

▪︎ If you both argue, he will have an internal struggle. It depends if the fault is his or yours. If you're the guilty, he will wait for you to apologies.

▪︎ If you talk to much he will listen, but if he's drained from work, he'll just give you a clear hint that he wants some silence.

▪︎ He doesn't care about how you look. He won't criticize you for it.

▪︎ If someone flirts with you, he will give them a death stare. People write him as someone possesive. He might be, but not like a maniac. He will just do that.

▪︎ He won't try to make you jelous. It just feels wrong.

▪︎ If he comes late to a date or your home, he will apologies and pull you close as he stares with sleepy eyes before giving you a soft and short kiss.

▪︎ Loves, loves, loves when you stroke his scalp. It relaxes him in some way, making him forget about some stuff that gets him in a really bad moon. It also soothes the headaches that he gets for staring at the screens too long of because of stress.

▪︎ Will call you in Spanish nicknames like: Mi amor (my love), cariño (honey), etc. I don't see him like calling you with more than two nicknames. Unless you tease him, he will get creative.

▪︎ He's not into nicknames. He will just ignore when you call him names. (Personally, I would call him 'Miguelillo' just for the tease.)

▪︎ He will take care of you if you get sick. You are very important to him, so much that it makes him feel bad when he sees you in this state

▪︎ If you suffer from migraine, his voice will be very soft.

▪︎ He prefers simple dates. Like watching movies, walking on the streets, etc.

#miguel o’hara headcanon #miguel o'hara x you #atsv headcanons #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader

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miguelsslvt · 8 months

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miguel o'hara x goth girl! spider! reader smut drabble

word count: 756

TW: nsfw, smut, overstimulation, y/n gets fucked dumb, creampie, fingering, spanish translated from google translate so it isn't very good i'm so sorry. and also it isn't exactly stated that y/n is 'goth', it's literally just heer style and i hate it sm that i write it like that i'm so sorry.

A/N: so basically i got requested to do a college au! goth girl x reader but i didn’t read the ‘college’ bit and i got a bit carried away so… here’s the shitty goth spider! reader whilst i try writing the college au!! anyways two posts in one night?? ahh! this is severely unedited and not even proofread, so i hope i did okay! i can always rewrite if you don't like it:). also i love doing requests so much, so pls give me more! welcome to the club! ^^

you were a smart girl. well, smart enough to notice the looks miguel gave you everytime you walked around spider society wearing your favourite black dress and fishnets. and you would be lying to yourself if you said the attention didn't make your legs tighten in anticipation.

you had your eyes on miguel since the first time you laid eyes on him when he recruited you. was it your everlasting hunger for male validation? maybe. was it the way his fingers flicked through tab to tab on his platform? most likely. was it the hunger you noticed in his eyes when he trailed his eyes along your figure? absolutely. that's why on the day you were supposed to come to miguel for 'monthly anomaly reports', you made sure to wear the short black skirt and fishnets you knew that would miguel drool. what? just because you were pretty didn't mean you were stupid.

after a beautiful walk around the graveyard near your home, placing some flowers on some empty graves, you decided to go back to the spider HQ, playing your favourite band, 'bauhaus'.

'spider goth. miguel would like you in his office.' your watch alarmed, as your smiled at lyla, nodding. before you walked into the office room, you made sure to fix your eyeliner so it didn't look too 'smoky' but smoky enough. you fixed your silver necklaces in place, as you walked in. 'yes miguel?'

fuck, that voice. miguel thought. he turned around slightly to take in your body. god, he could feel his dick twitch from just the sight of you. was it even normal to feel this way? 'sir? you seem a little.. distracted.' you said, tilting your head slightly. he smirked. if miguel was completely honest, he knew you knew how he felt about you. and the fact that you still continue to wear such provocative clothing around him, and the fact that you always give him that 'innocent' smile of yours was enough for him to know you enjoyed the attention.

'oh i think we both know why i'm distracted, spider goth-' 'y/n.' you cut him off. he seemed a bit taken aback. 'excuse me?' he asked. 'for you, it's y/n, sir.' you replied, walking up to his platform, your skirt riding up slightly as you sat on his desk.

god, he could take you right there. so he did.

✩★✩★✩★✩★✩★✩

'm-miguel!~' you moaned, eyes rolling back as he kept hitting that sweet spot inside you. your back was arched against the desk, as his hands held your hips roughly. your eyeliner and makeup was ruined, all over your cheeks as they were filled with tears. your fishnets were ruined, as your skirt was hitched up just above your ass, as miguel groaned in relief.

'god you don't know how long i've wanted this.. mi niña bonita~' he cooed, smirking as you gasped for air, holding onto the desk. (my pretty girl)

you had lost count on how many times miguel made you cum in just one hour, but right now you couldn't care. your legs were numb, mind was fuzzy and you could swear you were seeing stars. you fucked out dizzy expression urged miguel further, chasing both of your highs.

'g-god m-miguel g-gonna c-cum again..!' you moaned loudly, as miguel leaned closer to your ear, moving your jaw so he could see your dumb face.

you were drooling, crying, your hair and makeup was a mess. and mguel didn't think you could get any more prettier then this. god, and the way you clenched and gaped around him made him cum almost instantly. but he would wait. 'cum for me, that's it.. jodido tan tonto que ni siquiera puedes pensar, ¿verdad?' he teased, as he thrusts became sloppy once again. (fucked so dumb you can't even think, right?)

you reached you peak, letting out a loud gasp, as miguel held your jaw,his nose in your neck as he whispered to you. 'thaat's it.. that's my girl.. there you go..' he praised, prolonging your orgasm for as long as possible as he let his load in you.

it was alot, as you came down from your high, panting for air. miguel groaned as he pulled out, leaving a string of his cum and your juices out. he just let a deep breath, tutting. 'ay.. no.. mi dulce chica.. you're supposed you keep it inside. looks like i'm gonna have to plug it back in.' miguel said, sticking his finger inside you, making you squeal in overstimulation. (my sweet girl)

'let's take care of the mess you made, yeah?' he cooed, as you nodded mindlessly. there was one thing miguel will never admit, though.

and that's miguel likes it messy.

♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎

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thef1diary · 9 months

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Want You | M. Verstappen

Summary: It should feel so wrong to want him, especially when you're in a happy relationship, but you can't stop your thoughts from controlling your actions.

Warnings: 18+, reader is cheating on her current bf, smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), filthy words, angst (not with Max), google translated Dutch.

Word Count: 2.6k

Pairing: max x fem!reader

This time, he was the one who reached out. But it's become a habit, so it didn't really matter who actually texted the other first. Though, it was nice to know that he was also thinking about you.

Your boyfriend was out of town, so this was a lot easier. Easier to convince yourself that what you were doing isn't bad. But, deep down, you know it is.

You didn't have to sneak out or make excuses that you were seeing a friend. Taking your time getting dressed, you smiled at your reflection in the mirror. At least, he could recognize your beauty and praise you for it. You absolutely loved how he praised you while fucking you into oblivion.

You decided to wear a navy blue lingerie, showing off your body that Max clearly loved. Since you cannot wear that outside, you'd have to cover it up with a coat and boots.

If you were asked a few months ago, you would say that you're happy in your current relationship. But, even though you haven't admitted it yet, you know that you're not. There's no other reason why you keep ending up in his arms over and over again.

Forgetting about your boyfriend for tonight, you made your way to the location you knew way too well. To your ex's house—Max's house.

Parking right in front of his house, you sent him a text that you reached. Then, you briefly glanced at the other messages you had to pass some time. That's when you noticed the text from your boyfriend. He simply told you about his stressful day filled with meetings, then asked about yours.

It seemed like a normal conversation between a couple but it wasn't. He never asked about your day or your plans, unless it concerned him. You two fell out of love as fast as you fell in love.

His text caused you to spiral into the pit of guilt. You shouldn't be here, sleeping with another man while your boyfriend was working away. That's another thing you started disliking about him, the amount of workload he started taking on. It was like he wanted to be away from you, and maybe that was a good thing because of the arguments you two keep having.

Ignoring the text messages, you put your phone away. Taking another look in the mirror, you applied another coat of lipstick that you knew he loved, then got out of the car with a slight smirk on your face. It was not your fault that you were here, it was your boyfriend's fault that he couldn't keep you happy.

You noticed how the porch light turned on and he walked out, probably concerned why it took you a while to come inside. After all, you didn't have to text him, you could walk right in his house like you owned it. Because, once you did and he never wanted to take that away. The time and circumstances did.

He stood by the door, watching you with darkened eyes as you walked towards him. He wrapped one arm around your waist while the other hand caressed your cheek before placing his lips on yours.

Max's house was in a slightly secluded area and it was getting dark too, so you weren't worried about someone seeing you. You let yourself get lost in his touch, melting against his lips.

"Hi" you whispered when you parted away from him. He might've been smirking before, but now he was genuinely smiling. His hands caressed your body, pulling you as close as possible. "It didn't take a lot of convincing this time." He stated while placing light kisses down your neck.

Usually whenever he calls you over, it takes you a while to agree because you'd have to be careful of your current lover. Lying was something you were never good at, but practice makes perfect.

"Didn't want to be alone tonight." You muttered while holding back a moan. It had been one week since you were in his arms, and that entire week was spent in agony because you didn't sleep with your boyfriend either. More like he didn't want to.

Max faced you again, a devilish smile on his face, "alone?" He asked even though he knew the answer. "He's working, out of town" you simply replied before moving Max out of the way and walking inside. After all, it was getting cold and you didn't like the mention of your boyfriend while you were with Max.

He followed you inside, removing your coat for you and seeing what you had on underneath. "Fucking hell, is that all for me?" He groaned when he saw the blue lingerie you specifically wore for him. "Who else?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Damn right, no one else." He couldn't keep eye contact with you because his gaze was admiring your beauty, and soon he would show you just how much.

You bent down to remove your boots but Max stopped you. He kneeled down, placing your heeled boot on his thigh before slowly unzipping it. He did the same for the other foot, but his hands started roaming around, trailing up your leg.

He placed light kisses trailing up your leg before standing to his full height and capturing your lips with his. Your hair was tied up in a ponytail, but while Max kissed you, his hand wandered up in your hair and removed the hair tie.

"I've had so long to think about what I want to do to you." He muttered in your ear when you parted. "An entire week, always on my mind."

"Should I apologize for that?" You teased, earning a glare in return. "I was thinking of you while racing, so yes, apologize for distracting me."

"I don't think it was that big of an issue, after all, you won." You reminded him of his latest victory. He shrugged, "but you weren't there."

You rolled your eyes at his words. He has told you how much he wants you to be by his side in the paddock, but you can't. Not anymore. "We're not dating, Max"

"I think it's time to make you forget about that, liefje." He simply said before he picked you up and took you to his bedroom.

Placing you on the bed, he spread your legs before sliding up between them to kiss you. God he loved kissing you. Your hand trailed down to the hem of his shirt, pulling it up. He parted away from you to remove his top completely, then began placing wet kisses down your neck.

You arched your back, bringing yourself closer to him as he easily found the sweet spot behind your ear that made you moan sweetly. Even if you weren't together anymore, Max remembered every sweet spot of your body, and he was using that knowledge to his advantage tonight.

His goal was to make you forget about your boyfriend. And so far, it was working.

"As much as I love this, it has to go" he commented while looking at your lingerie. You sat up a bit so you could unclasp your bra, but before you could reach you hand around, his had already found the clasp.

"Laat mij voor je zorgen, schat." [let me take care of you] You didn't know what he said, but you absolutely loved it when he spoke in his mother tongue. You tried learning Dutch, but it was definitely a harder language to learn, plus Max wasn't the best teacher because he'd distract you often.

You let him remove your bra, throwing it somewhere in the room. Then, he licked his lips before leaning closer to you and pressing a light kiss on your chest. His tongue peeking out to tease your nipple, making it hard by blowing cool air on it.

"Max" you moaned his name, itching for him to touch you properly. "You want me?" He asked like he didn't know the answer. "Yes!" You exclaimed, making him chuckle. "I'm all yours."

He moved further down your body, trailing kisses across your stomach before reaching the waistband of your panties. He didn't remove it yet, no, he was going to tease you as much as he could. Sliding his thumb to rest on your clothed clit, he put a little pressure and started rubbing slowly. "Barely even touched you and so wet already."

You groaned, just wanting him to do something, anything. "Max, please" you begged and that sound was like music to his ears. "I know, I told you, I'll take care of you. Just be a little patient."

Removing his thumb, he moved your panties to the side, finally seeing your glistening pussy waiting for his touch. He licked his thumb before placing it directly on your clit. Sliding it down, he separated your folds and spread your wetness all around. His face was so close that you could feel his hot breath.

He moved his thumb once again but before you could complain, he spread your folds apart with two fingers before placing his tongue on you, licking deeply. "Fuck" you gasped. His movements were licking and kissing your sweet pussy, getting you prepared for his cock. He muttered your name, "you taste so sweet"

You arched you back again when you felt Max slowing down, but his arm was resting on your stomach; the weight holding you in place. Then, you felt his tongue delve deeper in your hole, just enough to make you squirm but far from bringing you over the edge. He did that a few times before using his thumb to circle your clit again. Your mind was hazy due to the constant pleasure, and you didn't even notice when he moved his arm away from your stomach and entered two fingers in the hole he was teasing with his tongue earlier.

Bending his fingers just the right way caused you to let out a loud moan because you did not expect him to take it up a notch. Replacing his thumb with his tongue on your clit, he enveloped it in between his lips. "Max, make me cum. Make me cum on your fucking tongue." You more so instructed than pleaded but he happily obliged.

Increasing the intensity, he flicked your clit with his tongue over and over again while pumping his fingers faster, adding a third one as well. Since he wasn't holding you down anymore, your back arched as he brought you closer to the brink of an orgasm. One of your hands fisted the bedsheet underneath you while the other made its way into Max's hair.

His hair was the perfect length to pull on, using that as an advantage to bring him even closer to your sweet pussy. You tried looking at him but once the pleasure became too much to bear, your eyes rolled back in pleasure as you were sent over the edge.

Max slowed down but he was still lapping up your cum, moaning at the taste. Your hand left his hair and he pressed one more kiss on your clit before looking up at you. That was a beautiful sight. His hair messed up, his lips a darker shade, and your cum glistening around his mouth. And you didn't miss the way his eyes were still dark but shining now.

"What are you waiting for, come up here" Your voice was a little rough because you spent the last few minutes before your orgasm moaning nonstop. Max stood up, hands unbuttoning his jeans while he made direct eye contact with you. Then his gaze travelled lower, looking at you all spread out for him. When you realized that, you blushed feverishly and moved to close your legs.

"Don't. I wanna see all of you" He instructed and you had no choice but to listen. He slid in between your legs then kissed you again, letting you taste your own cum as his tongue was granted access to your mouth.

His own pleasure wasn't something he was after, instead, he loved trailing kisses down your body. Letting him express his love for you. But that was a conversation for another day.

Your small bubble of joy popped when you heard the familiar sound of your ringtone. You had an idea of who could possibly be calling you right now, and you didn't like it. max saw your expression turn sour after hearing your phone ring, knowing exactly who it was. "What do you say, let me pick it up and end it once and for all?"

You turned your head to face him, "no, let me handle it." You moved off the bed despite Max's pleads otherwise. You already had a missed call from him, and you knew how much he hated it when he could call and you wouldn't pick up.

"Where are you?" was how you were greeted. "oh I'm doing great thanks, and you?" your tone was laced with sarcasm but he didn't like it one bit. "cut the bullshit, where are you?"

"Where else would I be, I'm at ho-" you began telling your lie but he cut you off, "are you really at home? because I'm standing in our bedroom right now so you are clearly not at home."

"shit" you mouthed and Max saw your expression and raised his eyebrow in question because he couldn't hear the other side of the conversation. Your attention was brought back to the phone call once you heard your boyfriend call your name, "it is almost midnight, where the fuck are you?"

"Why are you home?" you countered, avoiding the answer to his question because you needed time to think of a lie. He was the type of boyfriend to call your friends and ask if you were with them, so you couldn't even lie about that. Plus, they didn't know about your relationship with your ex. Max knew exactly what was going on when you said those words. Then, you put the phone on speaker so he could hear your boyfriend's next words.

"I thought that I would surprise you, but you are not even here to greet me. Can't even do anything good for you nowadays." his words angered you but you knew how to keep calm in these moments, Max on the other hand did not.

"Maybe if you cared about her and loved her more, then she wouldn't be with me right now." Max spoke out loud, surprising both you and your boyfriend. "Is that Max fucking Verstappen? You better not be fucking him."

"Well I was about to but you called, so if you're done then hang the fuck up." You don't know what overcame you to say that but you did know that you were tired of it all. "You're cheating on me?" he asked incredulously. "This is not how I wanted to tell you this, but I'm not in love with you anymore. We're done."

"No, this is the right time because I found someone else, but I didn't go around your back to fuck someone else while we were still in a relationship." He insulted you but it didn't hurt as much as you thought it would. "Well then I wish you well. I'll come by to pick up my stuff later." then you hung up before he could get another word in.

There was a moment of silence before you looked at Max. "Does that mean you can stay the night?" he asked, making you forget about all your worries for now. "Yes, I'm staying" you replied which made a smile grow on his face. "Good, because I still plan on fucking you until the only word you can say is my name."

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honestsycrets · 10 months

Text

dedication | young!miguel o'hara x reader

❛ pairing | young geneticist!miguel o'hara x scientist!reader

❛ type | oneshot, explicit.

❛ summary | alchemax is a dangerous place to work. miguel's new assistant may be over her head. maybe he can help her, though.

❛ tags | virgin reader, f!reader, shitty science, plot heavy, loose canon references, literary liberties, loss of virginity, overprotective Miguel o'hara, jealous miguel o'hara, some objectification, workplace politics, aftercare (as requested), corruption (is it tho?), bc what bc, Spanish is not translated, young!miguel, heel-foot fetish, somewhat romantic.

❛ fulfilled request | can we please have a miguel x virgin reader and he didn’t even know until he was already putting it in?? And then voila his corruption kink unexpectedly growS? @a--dedicated--fangirl

❛ sy’s notes | miguel sort of works on that whole corruption aspect throughout this fic, but i wanted to meld these two ideas together to create a reader who is entirely dedicated to Miguel. This piece was a bit long for me.

“Miguel, your new assistant is here.”

On paper, you’re an excellent candidate for the genetics program.

An excellent GPA, renowned company internships, decent publications, and a diverse upbringing. It was all good. Great, even. But as the head of the genetics program at Alchemax, he has a little thing called priorities. Interviewing everyone himself was low on the rung of shit he felt like he should be doing. There was, however, one little, itty bitty, tiny problem with bringing you on board.

“Dr. O’Hara? ¿Estas bien?”

That shirt-- is not meant to hold those-- His brain was left field, glimpsing at them. A slightly sheer button-up revealed the outline of your bustier and its inability to conceal your body. They should have been illegal. He was pretty sure they were illicit in the handbook on his table. He should really read that again. Maybe then he wouldn’t be salivating over something as simple as a co-worker-- He needed to get out of the lab. The bleached walls tightened around him, the space smaller than he remembered. He was going to get caught.

Realistically, the lab was full of witty people. Many of them were witty men with subpar looks and stupider dicks. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything about it. Not only because your lips were plump, painted petal-pink, and kissable or because the depth of your sultry eyes went straight in the dick. No, but because that would be improper of a man of his stature to tell one of the only women in his care that she was too gorgeous for the job you were clearly qualified for.

“Sí, coño,” He fixed his glasses, crooked on his broad nose. He stood up from his desk and grabbed his lab coat, swirling it around his broad shoulders. If he wasn’t mistaken, you tracked the movement with your eyes. “Do you want a cafecito? Miss…”

You told him your name. He mulled it over on his tongue, lathing it in a gentle acknowledgment. Cemented it in a place he wouldn't forget. You tinked your head to the side, your lashes fluttering when he cleared his throat. Great, just shocking--

“After you,” he headed for the door. He held it open for you, plastering his back to the wood. It didn't matter. You slid by closer than he’d prefer, your hand catching on his belt buckle with muttered apologies. This wasn’t going to end well.

Cafecito is an excellent excuse to pull his dumbass together.

It also calms his nerves, centers his mind, and allows him to compartmentalize. Whether or not you could hold your own wasn’t his issue, his issue was the necessity of someone he could trust. Ugly, beautiful-- so long as they were efficient, Miguel would make due. The cafeteria was a large and clean space. The many tables were crowded with wrap-around stations for poorly crafted, misery-inducing meals. Miguel paid and took a seat at a creaky table. One where he could see the door open, shut, and keep an eye on the comings and goings of meager scientists and annoying managers.

“You’ll be working with me.”

You pursed your lips around the warm cup of coffee, taking a ginger sip. He noted your lipstick stain that remained as you pushed the cup toward the middle of the table you shared with him. This damn suit vest was stifling. He gave you a long, slow look, tilting his head to the fact that you’d not drunk anything. It’d be rude to acknowledge.

“Delgado told me,” you smiled warmly. “He said you’re a genius. I don’t know that I believe in geniuses.”

Hmph. Delgado, things fell into place. That sycophant knew what he liked. He also knew that Miguel was better than him, always was, and always would be. Miguel offered you a slick smile, convinced he could assure you otherwise if he needed to. “Delgado says a lot of things. I’m surprised he gave you to me.”

“Why is that, O’Hara?” the way his name slipped off your tongue was a hot sin. If only he believed in a god. His eyelids shifted over his eyes, heavy-lidded and dark.

“You’re beautiful. He likes to collect beautiful things,” Miguel tried, curious. Your nails clicked in succession over the table. A repetitive click, click, click. He would be annoyed too if he were no more than a ploy. A distraction. Miguel wasn’t sure that it wasn’t working. His eyes flickered down, catching one of your palms curling into a tight fist, tension rolling through your fingers and up your arms. “He knows I do too.”

You leaned in, close enough that he could spot the unique freckles spread out in a crescent moon beneath a layer of makeup on your face. Beautiful. “I’m not here to belong to you, O’Hara. I hope you know that.”

He was off to a great, fantastic start.

“Understood.” Miguel leaned back in his chair, a smirk creeping up his lips. Or, believe that you believed that. You spared him any more mincing comments. Appeased by his suggestion, you brought your drink back to your lips.

“Good. What are we sequencing?”

“Me.”

You swallowed. “You? You can’t be--”

Mhm, he stared, lips pressed tightly together. “You’ll code my DNA. Then we’ll splice it.”

"With what?"

"You'll see."

“Is this your little,” you swirled your finger in a circle. “Pet project?”

Unfortunately not, he would have liked to say. That information was confidential, and though you worked on the project, there were levels to his willingness to involve you in the delicate flow of workplace politics. Still, you might make a healthy distraction from his work. Miguel took a swig of his cafecito, boring into the black substance.

“Something like that.”

Having a pretty assistant means things don’t always get done according to schedule. Not quickly enough, not by far. There is a time limit to everything at Alchemax. The quicker, the better. Thus this project demanded more hours of his time. The project was spliced between the work required of him by superiors and you, your quirks, and your preferences.

Miguel has learned a great many things about you in a short amount of time. You don’t appreciate misplaced pet names. You actually can’t handle coffee because of the caffeine or the sugar. He also learns things about himself. How little he likes when Delgado comes to check on progress because he isn’t actually checking on shit. He's checking you out.

He likes to weasel his nasty fingers around the door, peering in to try and find out what specimen he’s actually working on. Miguel was much too smart for that. His beady eyes caught Miguel over your shoulder, mumbling up to him about a new finding in tests you ran earlier that day. Your face mask twirled around your index finger, finally free and at a documentation workspace. Funny, because he clearly redacts information from your well-recorded notes on the daily. You refuse to include less.

“Hey Mike,” he said. “How are things… Oh hey, you. You settling in, honey? Mike treating you ok? I can discipline him for you.”

“As if you could,” Miguel huffed.

But Delgado spying on you, the way you record progress by pouting out your lips, shifting between paper and your lab reports, was intolerable. Because... well, he has sensitive information on there. Your nose scrunches in distaste, but you bow your head just slightly as a hello. He might be his supervisor, but Miguel doesn’t need one to know why this asshole is in his lab turning his smarmy brown eyes over the way you sit: one leg over the other. You seem to realize it too, trailing your eyes over his gaudy suit to Miguel’s sinewy hand on your shoulder.

“Stop being a creep,” Miguel complained, “She has actual work to do.”

“Actual work? As opposed to--“

“Yes, what you do.” Miguel spat out. You eschewed a giggle, turning your face over a pristine white lab jacket that thankfully, you had no qualms in wearing. Otherwise, he might not finish any work in the lab at all.

“I supervise--

“You’re still talking but we’re not listening,” Miguel waved him off, plucking up papers by your side. Your eyes snap up to Miguel’s deep chocolate eyes hidden behind the thin frame of his metal glasses, waiting for a proper response. “Goodbye, Aaron.”

Miguel walks to the door, locks it with a click, and returns to your side. You glance at his white lab coat, fluttering around his tapered waist. He loves the way your eyes look at him with a soft, inviting expression, beseeching him to come to sit by your side as he always did. “Not a fan of Delgado, I take it.”

“Are you?” Miguel sits with his legs spread, his fingers threading through his thick brown hair. You set your papers down, swiveled toward him. The wheels of your rolling chair squeak on either side of his thick, black boots. His eye catches your thick thighs, squashed between your midi skirt, its atrocious slip causing him discomfort. His hand leaves his thick hair, dropping in unison side by side.

“I can’t stand being called honey, Mike.”

“Shut up.”

The days proceed similarly. Days filled with brushing past him as he slides in samples and reagents. He might lose a sample, clattering on the floor, and you always rush to help him clean up. Lunch together, because no matter how late he eats, you’re there beside him. Then as night falls, you stay until he has finished whatever he needs to do.

“Time to eat something,” you slipped into his office. The clock ticked past midnight. Miguel flicked through handwritten pages of information that did not need to be recorded in computer files. You watched his eyes scan over the ink on the page, acknowledging you with a grumpy grunt. Not now, not when he was so close to finishing the last section of the project.

“Empanada,” you turned his palm over, placing the flaky pastry in his hand. Caramelized apple. He loved a good apple empanada. He watched as you walked over to the coffee maker, drawing him a warm cafecito just how he liked it. Miguel dropped his pen, stretching out his aching spine.

“Gracias. From where?”

“I made them,” you set down the cup a little harder than intended. The surface rippled, throwing hot coffee drips onto his pages. His eyes flickered up from the pages to your eyes. Without thinking, he blathers:

“That so?” A pause. “Don’t you have a man?”

“Miguel. With this sequencing project, you’re the only man in my life. Shut up and eat the empanada.”

“Huh. Good. I like that.” He swallowed the empanada with a bob of his head, his tongue lathing over his teeth for any more of the sweet sugar. He stood up, finding your expression soft, drawn out by a sense of longing that he couldn’t imagine he saw.

“You like my sad love life?”

Yes.

“No, we have a company event. A ball,” Miguel chided, his tone gentling as he slipped away from his desk, abandoning his steamy coffee on his desk. He backed out of the doorway, “It’s all Stone’s politics. You know how these things are. I have to go. Come with me.”

“Is that a request or an order?”

“A date.”

I’d love to. Your words were the only thing that made tonight bearable. Slinking his tanned skin into a dark blue suit that cinched everything too tight was… unbearable. It clung to his skin like a second skin and choked off his air. But it might be worth it to see your face-- just maybe. He tracked the fluttering tails of fish behind bulletproof glass, following them as they fluttered away into their rock. He wished he could too.

“Miguel?”

“You’re here,” he turned around, dropping the champagne he idly held in his hand. It went forgotten by his boot as you called his name again. His gaze fixed on yours, the slinky navy blue dress caused his heart to thrum through his chest, chasing the sight of your body at his feet, picking shards of glass up with the aid of a worker, apologizing profusely for the mess. A soft puff of breath slipped from his lips as you stood back up, gripping your purse a little harder in your hands. He ran his hand over his jaw, drawing himself back to his senses.

“Miggy,” he husked out. “Call me Miggy.”

“You look handsome, Miggy,” his name felt unreal on your lips until he felt the pressure on his elbow. Your soft hands slunk around his, cradling him for some security in the face of the large doors. He shook himself back to his senses. Right, there was a reason he was here. “But shouldn’t we go?”

He should have-- but did he want to? No, not really. He didn’t want to see Stone’s greasy face, let Aaron take a peek at how you looked dolled up, or any of the rest of these fuckers. What he wanted was something else entirely.

“Listen.” Miguel stopped, his other hand coming to the jeweled bracelet on your wrist. The doors to the ballroom lapsed, groups of older men filtering in and out with their pieces of the night: doting wives, longing husbands, and partners that their wives or husbands probably didn’t know about. “Don’t wander off from me. They’re all snakes. All of them.”

“Even you?”

“Hermosa,” you didn’t leer at him. “I’m the least of your worries.”

He wasn’t wrong. The ballroom was dolled up in lush fabrics, fine china, and a copious amount of food as it was every year. Miguel found the attempt to distract from what really went on behind closed doors at Alchemax a bit cloying. This year the music was at least tolerable. It filtered out into the ballroom in a syrupy melodies driven on by the soft, promises of rich men for the exchange of sex. For much of the night, he could stomach the various men poking and prodding at him about his impending research. So long as you were here.

“Miggy,” you breathed, a hot puff of air against his ear. He leaned down, his hand atop of yours. “Will you dance with me?”

Dance? Miguel had two left feet-- it’s why he was a geneticist. For all the work you did on his behalf in the lab, including this very night, he owed you the benefit of whatever you wanted. He searched out a quiet area, one where the only disruption could be the stream of moonlight in through a window. You preferred it over the wall of vivacious men and over-powdered women. He preferred it over the atrocity of his footwork.

“It’s not much of a date,” Miguel’s hand slid around yours. He encompassed your small palm with his large hand, the other gliding across the soft, exposed skin of your back. You swayed with him, side to side. He was an awful dancer, but there was something endearing about that. He saw it in your eyes, the glimmer of curiosity, gliding your dark heels against the inside of his foot. Damn, he still sucked.

“No,” you agreed, shifting to take the lead. He followed your steps. Right, back, left, up. Maybe he stepped on your long dress once or twice, too. Shock, he cursed again, stepping over your foot.

“You’re remarkably bad at this.” You settled your head on his chest, letting your box steps fade into little more than the shifting of your hips.

“I know. Let’s just-- sway?”

“Swaying is good.”

“O’Hara,” boomed Stone. But of course— peace couldn’t last forever. Like a bullet through the chest, a voice caused him to turn in startle. His tan cheeks flushed with warmth, feeling cut off from the cover of others. He was dressed in the most gaudy of clothes that almost seemed to match the crooked expression on his pale face. No matter how many times he tried to fix it, it always looked… wrong.

Stone’s hands came together, clapping multiple times to force the crowd of politicians, scientists, and bought-in participants to fade away. His voice caused Miguel to growl, a low rumbly noise that you soothed with your breasts pushing gingerly against his arm. He could do it. He could handle this pompous little shit-- “And who is this beauty? A new girlfriend, perhaps? Fiance? O’Hara could do with a wife. Settle him down, y’know.”

Miguel huffed out of his nostrils. “This is my lab partner,” he cleared his throat, leaning forward. “For… the project.”

“Her? A lab partner? Ha!”

Shock. He didn’t have to look at you to know you were insulted. Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbing out the tension as you smiled through the interaction, taking over for Miguel. “We have measurable results.”

“That’s what I like to hear, sweet thing. Now, Miguel, Aaron has found a test subject…”

“I’ll interview them.”

“No need! I--”

“Excuse me, Mr. Stone. I’ll let you two talk,” you slipped away, your heels clicking off into the busy crowd. Stone was talking. Miguel knew he should listen closely. His half-formed plan to see what the future held for his research was wafting into the air, wisps of it in his ear. Tomorrow-- test-- can you? Panic blinded his senses. He could find you nowhere in the room, and even if he did, would he be too late?

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine, it’s… excuse me.”

The issue with falling for someone was the scythe of his fear. His position was inherently risky. No matter how many groups of people he cut through trying to find you, you weren’t there. No tiny little appetizers of shrimp on half a skewer. No booze, because your head would swim. Not near the bathrooms, either. He rushed down the steps when he found you, just before the large iron gates, staring up at the stars peppering the sky.

At your feet, Aaron. His drunken fingers trying and failing to guide the strap off of your ankle. You, of course, sat there staring dumbly down at his failed attempts to do something as simple as fix your damn heel.

“I’ll take it from here.” Miguel booted Aaron out of the way. Who, with his sloppy sloshed curses, tried to win a fight with him. He eventually won out. Aaron slunk away, somewhere up the steps. Miguel wasn’t counting. “You didn’t listen.”

“Hm?”

Miguel loosened both straps, sliding his open palm under your foot for one then the other. You gazed at him, sliding the black heels off your feet, tutting his tongue at the blistered back of your feet.

“I told you not to wander off.”

“I just wanted to see the stars. Besides, it was just Aaron.”

“It’s never just Aaron. It’s Aaron and Stone.” Miguel’s eyebrows pushed against one another, recording your failure to listen. You crossed one leg over the other, sliding your toes over his silk tie, kept beneath a vest. He knelt before you, searching your eyes for the right answer. “You don’t know… what you’re getting into. I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“I don’t need you to. I can take care of myself, Miguel. Please don’t--” you sighed. “Don’t be like them.”

He knew what you meant. Like Aaron, peeling off your shoes at the sign of discomfort because you were a pretty woman. Or Stone, who couldn’t comprehend your value as a scientist. Those who doubted you because of your color, gender, or a mixture of the two. His mouth twisted in frustration. He was in deep. Whatever you desired, he wanted to give. It came at a price.

“Are you mine,” the words came out stiff, “or theirs?”

“Miggy,” you turned the word over on your tongue, willing him to stand down. His dark eyes settled on yours, unmoving. “Why do I have to pick?”

“You can’t have both. You’ll have to choose. One day.”

Your mind worked. He knew from the way you pursed your lip out, then in, puncturing its pillowy surface with your teeth. You shifted your gaze to the water, the stream coursing down the unfeeling stone. Miguel's fingers ran across your inner thigh, causing you to gaze down at him. The steps of others on the other side of the fountain, fading into the depths of the night caused you to break his gaze. Miguel offered you his hand, fitting the shoes under his other arm as he walked toward the valet. You took his hand and interlaced your fingers.

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” you said, though the words felt thready and thin, nary a whisper. Something in the undercurrent of your voice concerned him. A thread that needed to be snipped, convinced of the vileness of the city-- of who you worked for.

He doesn’t make mistakes.

But he left the project code on his desk. It should have been there, yet, the corpse of a decrepit, awful creature withered on the lab floor proved otherwise. Someone had taken it because he was distracted. As a result, someone lost their life... even if it was Stone's doing.

Now, scouring through his papers, his hands tremored like a common drug addict. He supposed he was one, a druggie, tremoring like a shot hungry, Rapture crazed--

“Miggy?”

He snapped around. His gaze melded your figure into one beautiful blurb, even with the glasses on his broad nose. It was your voice, coded in something close to concern. Miguel ran his hands through his hair, long strands falling messily over his eyes and cheekbones. He flattened his hands out atop his head.

“What are you looking for?”

“The notes,” he weathered a breath. He doddered about the room, throwing a stack of paper onto the floor. They crumpled over the floor, mixed projects, notes on the specimen, but none were his. “Where are my notes?”

“You’re sick,” your voice broke gently, as if speaking them alone helped. A horrid crack of laughter slipped from his throat, drawing into a long lament as he repeated the words after you. Sick, you said, he was sick. If being sick was the least of his issues, he would have been a happy man. Your steps rang into his ear, heavier than before, painful and loud. He crumpled onto the couch in his office, his hands cupping them. Your soft hands coursed over his chest, unbuttoning his starched button-up and sliding it down his muscular upper arms. “This might hurt.”

No kidding, needles always hurt. But the instantaneous relief that flooded his system overrode the momentary pain. As your fuzzy figure came into focus, he recognized the drug that you set aside.

“You didn’t--”

“You were right, Miggy, about the-- Mr. Sims.” Miguel gazed at you, leafing through novels of notes with trembling hands. He cursed himself for subjecting you to seeing that. Not quite human, not quite... The twisted look on the poor man’s face. What months of research with one another had offered. He would fix it. He knew the research was on point. It was the application that was lacking.

“I have a copy of your notes,” you murmured as if someone could hear. They likely could. “¿Ay, puñeta, dónde está? Ah! Here, here it is. Your… profile.”

“You kept it,” he glanced down at the hastily scribbled note attached to the clip. ‘Miguel’s profile’ alongside a soft pink heart. He stopped your hands from thumbing through another leaflet. His eyes traced the dry ink of the heart. His thumb moved to stroke it, catching the sight of bubbling tears welling over in your eyes out of the corner of his eye. The tears slid down your full cheeks, triggering his discomfort to well up in his stomach. Miguel shifted closer, flicking fat droplets off your slight jaw.

“Hermosa,” Miguel shifted his head, cocking his eyebrow. “¿Que te pasa?”

“I should have listened to you Miggy,” you began, inhaling air forcefully through your nostrils. Breathe, you murmured. Miguel's soft hand cupped the back of your neck like a collar. You were happy to be collared by his hand, it felt safe.

His eyes narrowed, thumb caressing the loose strands of hair at your nape. “You should have. You know I'll take care of you."

You nodded.

"You have to be fully dedicated to me.”

“I am.”

“Show me.” You fluttered your eyes, the gears of your mind working to understand what he meant. His hand fell away to trace the bow of your black blouse. He tugged on the knot, slipping the bow loose and running his fingers over your exposed cleavage below. “Take off the blouse.”

Was it necessary? Some might have said no-- but sex, in its connective nature-- was the ultimate dedication. At the end of it all, that's what he craved: your eyes, your actions, all born with him in mind. With trembling fingers, you untucked your shirt from your black slacks. Miguel sat back, tracking the soft lace of your balconette bra teasing his eye. You loitered for a minute too long, enough for him to lift his thick eyebrow.

“Don’t stop now,” he said. Your knees knocked together, slipping the shirt over and off your torso before draping it on the arm of his couch. Your bra followed quickly after, slipping out of the twisted straps. You skimmed your hands over your breasts, holding them for comfort.

"No." Miguel flicked his fingers, motioning for your hands to move from your thick nipples. You pushed your breasts together, allowing him to marvel at them a second longer. “Que maravilla... You have no idea how long I’ve waited. Go on, take off the rest now.”

You suckled in breath, sliding the button of your pants loose. Then the zipper, its cloth scratching your thighs on its way to pool around your ankles. You stepped out of them, joining them too with your shirt. Miguel sat up, running his calloused fingers over the side of your hip and waist. His thumbs hooked in your panties, drawing them down over your pussy, a moist spot on your panties connecting a small string of wetness to your pussy. His palm slid between your thighs, pinned by your thighs pressed together, whether out of an innate need for more pressure or shyness to show him how wet you were. Hm. Miguel melded your ass, striking your skin with his large palm, it jiggled.

“Miggy,” you breathed, shy and intimidated. “I have to tell you something…”

“Lay down,” he told you.

“But Miggy, what if someone…” Your eyes darted away from his, chewing on his cheek as you slid back down beside him. You settled on the couch, your legs thrown over his thighs. The couch was stiff, hard against your neck. You stole a haughty glimpse at his face, focused entirely on coursing his palms over your calves and thighs, then back down to your slight toes. He ground your feet over his stiff cock, obscured by the fabric of his slacks. He felt big-- bigger than you could have imagined from the look on your face.

“¡Basta!” Miguel growled, “No one is going to come in. Let me see you.”

You flushed.

“You want me to…” you glanced down, your curls were soft to the touch.

“Touch yourself for me.”

With your heart strumming in your chest, you shifted your hand down, spreading your lips, soft and wet. You were so wonderfully shy to follow his orders, the pads of your fingers rubbing along your outer lips, massaging them warm and swollen. You buried your eyes into your other arm, dragging up and down, over and over. A delightful sigh greeted his ear, ensuring that though you were too embarrassed to look at him, you loved it. He allowed it for now-- because he was a gracious, forgiving man.

“Shock,” Miguel shuffled at the button and zipper of his pants, freeing himself from his slacks. He spat into his palm, stroking over his fleshy length, squishing his cock against your foot. Your toes curled over his cockhead, engrossed in Miguel’s rumbling pants, the soft pleasure that bloomed from his chest. Your eyes trained on his lips, the slight breath suckled between his teeth. Your fingers glazed over your stiff clit, pausing as though you needed his permission, just how he wanted it. Your sweet submission.

His eyebrow perked. “You can touch it.”

“Oh,” you glanced down, tracing the way Miguel fisted himself, swirling up to his cockhead, along fat veins and the bubble of salty fluid on his tip. His permission seemed to spur something else in you, flicking your swollen clit to the sound of his pleasured growling, your own pleasure growing in tandem with his.

“¡Ya!” he annunciated, watching as you failed to stop. All at once he stopped his ministrations. A sigh escaped his chest as he pushed himself up, smacking your hand away from your puffy cunt. His cock bobbed between your bodies. You wanted to touch it, but couldn’t.

"Wait," you cried out. His cock twitched as he lowered his hips down, drawing sweet lubricant on his cock, stroking your pussy. He leaned forward, capturing your mouth in a warm kiss. He dipped his hand down, his cockhead prodding and poking, dipping lower with the aid of his hand.

“MiggyI’mavirgin,” you said all at once, his cockhead nudged against your entrance. Miguel’s head about snapped as he looked up, eyes popped wide open in disbelief. Before he could quite form a coherent thought, your hands shot out to grip his suit vest, stopping him where he was.

“¿Qué dejiste? Say that again?”

“I haven’t… I haven't had sex,” you murmured. He hadn’t put it together. Your shyness, the awkward way you shuffled around, loosening your bra and hiding your perfect breasts from his eyes. The words were finally out in the open but didn't register.

"A..." Miguel fisted his cock, once, then twice, shifting back to kneel before you. Your eyes fell on his muscular thighs, the way his hand fisted his dick. “You’re a virgin?”

“I’m too old for this,” you mumbled, hiding your eyes with your palms. Miguel shifted to cast aside your hands from your eyes, his muscular body caging you underneath, looking for an explanation. “I just. Between school, work, I never had time.”

Not that he was complaining.

"No boyfriend?"

You shook your head. He couldn't believe his luck. Not only were you gorgeous, but you were untouched. His, completely and fully. He liked it better that way-- to be the first memory smeared in your head. So that when you looked back on this moment, right now, it would forever be marked by his face.

"It's mine," he blurted out all at once. "I want your first to be mine."

His hand dropped down to your cunt. The pad of his middle finger worked at your entrance as though he were exploring the truth of your statement, stretching you with the aid of his fingers. You were tight, it had to be true.

You nodded, face buried deep in your arm. It didn’t take but moments for him to draw his hand back, suckling the lubricant from his fingertips. You distantly registered his words, “Damn it, you... you don't know what you do to me.”

Before you could say a word more, Miguel positioned the head of his dick against your slippery virgin hole. You clenched, glancing down between your bodies again, as you had a dozen times, anxiously waiting. Miguel hushed you, the repetitive shushing of his lips soothing you into complacency, forcing your muscles to relax. “It might hurt. But the pain won’t last,” he assured you.

He rolled his hips forward. His sharp exhale shook with every centimeter that gave way. Your walls were forced apart, suffocating you on the shock of adjusting to having someone, no not someone, Miguel-- your Miguel, sinking into your tense body. He throbbed, twitching in your body. His hands fisted in the aged couch, catching the breath in his chest.

“Ay, Miggy,” your nails dug into his shirt, loose around his firm muscles. “Miggy, no puedo,”

“You can, you’re so good, eres tan buena,” Miguel swept your lips between his, taking the moment of your surprise to bury himself further, swallowed by your cunt that resisted his intrusion. Your lips fluttered in the kiss, keened out a cry. The pain of his dick, forcing its way through your passage is quelled by the knowledge that he’s here, with you, his girth forcing you apart, stretching you apart, seating himself flush against your womb. His voice was caramelized, sugared over, and so good. “Look at how well you’re taking me already.”

“Coño, that’s a tight pussy,” He slid his hips back, the warm sensation of his withdrawal pulling free before shoving back in, a cry shoving forth from your lips, filling his office and the connected lab with your cries. He might have heard someone draw the door open, his hips driving back in, centered on the magnificent groans that stuttered free from your chest with Miguel’s careful thrusts. You keened his name, a repetitious Miggy, Miggy, Miggy-- it was Aaron, probably. He recognized the way his feet drug on the floor.

He hoped he didn’t just hear it. He hoped he saw it too, the way his balls slapped against your ass, the mess of blood soaking the already unhygienic couch, the way his cock pulsed. You were blissed out, so full and well of him like no one else ever had-- because you were his, and his alone. It wasn’t just sex. It was more than that. From Aaron, whose shuffled steps fell out of his office, to any other little bitch in the office who had their own gain.

“Damn,” Miguel shifted back, hooking his hand around your thigh to drag you back onto his dick. He swirled his thumb against your stiff clit, whirling it around in one circle, then another, and by the third your knees knocked together, bearing down on his cock to hold him still. “I can’t--” you stuttered out, I can’t--”

“You’re going to,” he hissed. “You’re going to cum right here, right now, split open on my dick.”

With another circle, you croaked an ugly cry, a terrible, ugly cry that Miguel couldn’t find any more beautiful as your body buzzed around him, tightening and squeezing your already tight cunt around him. Blissful pleasure radiated there, riding his dick for the friction against your virgin walls, your thoughts fading into a realm of insistent pleasure, where thoughts were space mush.

Miguel withstood the pressure on his cock, clamping his hand down on your hip. His thrusts stuttered, filling your belly with whip after whip with his full hot cum. Your body twitched in the throes of his orgasm. He tracked his eyes down to your body, withdrawing with a bubbly pop of his dick from your abused hole, the intermingling of cum and virginal blood dribbling down your cheeks.

Your gaze tracked Miguel, pressing his lips toward yours one more time. You shifted on the couch, legs pathetically tremoring. Miguel chuckled and walked toward his electric kettle, papers crunching underneath his feet, “Don’t bother moving. Not that you could, anyway.”

He warmed a warm cloth with hot water, testing its temperature on his palm before sitting beside your crumpled legs, spreading your legs to clean his mess and sooth the abrasive way he took you. He spread your lips, ensuring you were clean before he would flip the cloth, dropping it on top of your vulva.

“You know you’re mine,” he asked, though it came out as a statement. With another cloth, Miguel cleaned his soft cock of the mess, exhaustion of the sex and what was to come returning to his gentle, deep voice.

“Sí,” you answered.

“And you’d do anything for me. Only me.”

The words were laced with something more than a suggestion, but an affirmation of your loyalty. Your love. You pushed yourself up, hanging off his arm after he tucked himself into his pants. “Para siempre.”

He leaned down, plucking the bundle with his sequenced DNA information. Your eyes coursed the information on the page, darting up to his tired eyes. You wanted to ask why or what he knew. Miguel knew it didn't matter. You were his now, from the top of your head to the bottom of your gorgeous toes. You trusted him fully. As you should. With the empty vial of Rapture sitting beside him, forgotten, he spared you a mincing smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Good. Let's fix our project.”

#miguel ohara oneshot #miguel o'hara oneshot #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader #spider 2099 imagine #across the spiderverse imagine #atsv imagines #atsv imagine #spider 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara/reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara smut

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hsyvers · 10 months

Text

I WANT SOME (OF YOUR LOVE) - spiderwoman!h.yj x f!reader

SYPNOSIS; yunjin being late to band practice is slowly becoming a habit...and you think you know why. yunjin also has a habit of blushing around you, and you definitely know why.

NOTES; 1.9k. it's all fluff <3 i watched across the spiderverse and had to...lsrfm is a rock band 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 yunjin being a terrible liar and chaewon being done w her bs 😭 there's a little bit of swearing

"shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!"

yunjin is late to band practice. again.

which, in theory, should be fine. punctuality was important to her but, hey, in the life of spiderwoman, there had to be sacrifices, right?

"jen, where are you?"

delivered 5 minutes ago. she'll arrive in another 5. shit.

"jm almost theref i orimkse!;" 🗣🧍‍♀️✈"

you stare at your phone with narrowed eyes, your brain trying to process and translate the foreign language.

"hey," you hear chaewon, the leader of your band, call you, "have any idea where your girlfriend is?" she teases, though you can sense a little bit of frustration from her part, which was understandable, knowing that yunjin was her friend too.

"girlfriend!?"

"girlfriend?"

"girlfriend!"

the other three shout simultaneously. eunchae's eyes are sparkling, kazuha's mouth is open in an "O" shape, and sakura looks like she's about to interrogate you on when, why, how, and where this happened.

you throw off the others with a wave of your hand, offering the leader an apologetic smile, tapping your drumsticks on your lap, "ignoring the "girlfriend" part because she isn't, but she did say she'd be here soon."

chaewon merely gives an unconvinced hum, inspecting her microphone while kazuha tunes her bass guitar, eunchae tests her keyboard, and sakura practices rifts on her electric guitar. you tap your drumsticks on the cymbal a little nervously.

"i'm here!" a loud voice announces, as huh yunjin finally runs in, her hair looking messed up, her clothes ruffled, and her own electric guitar lugging along with her on one shoulder. chaewon purses her lips at the scene, but you simply leap from your chair and towards yunjin.

the taller girl closes her eyes and braces for a lecture, but all she feels is gentle hands weaving through her hair. she opens her eyes and looks into yours. you don't look mad...?

"huh yunjin," you whisper.

"hm?" she hums dazedly, her cheeks turning a warm pink when your hands move to pat at her wrinkled clothes.

"what's your excuse this time?" sakura chimes instead, stealing your question from you. at this, yunjin smiles sheepishly, sneaking a glance at you for advice on how to approach this, but all you give her is a slight nod. she sighs.

"i actually have a very good excuse for this and, well....i-"

"she was picking something up for me," you answer for her, with your back still facing the rest of the band. yunjin looks at you, failing to hide her relieved expression, and you shake your head at her before turning around and having a staring contest with chaewon.

the leader sighs and gestures for the both of you to get on stage, "just don't make a habit of it, please, that was the third time this week, jen."

"yes ma'am," the blond electric guitarist nods with a grin, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek and running to the stage before you could reprimand her.

you huff, rubbing your cheek, and you make your way back to your drums, deciding to talk to her privately about it later.

you take no notice of how hot your cheeks felt, and you certainly pretend that you're unaware of yunjin's stares.

"I can't keep covering for you, yunjin," you mumble, patting gently at the cut on her cheek. she lets out a pained whine as you do so, but you don't let up.

yunjin doesn't say anything at first, not when you're in such a...compromising position.

'is this on purpose?' she thinks, because between you straddling her lap and treating her stinging wounds, it's either the pain or how horredously down bad she is that's making her this dizzy.

and your face was terribly close. she swallows, not making direct eye contact with you.

"hey," your lips curl into a small smirk, and yunjin makes the mistake of looking up. her cheeks immediately color when her gaze locks with yours, "you've been uncharacteristically non-hyperverbal with me today."

you bandage her cheek carefully, then moving on to the small gash on her stomach.

"may I?"

her cheeks burn with embarrassment as she lifts up her own shirt for you, and you roll your eyes playfully at how dramatic she's being. you feel her squeeze your arm when you disinfect it, with you biting your lower lip in concentration.

"is this really necessary?" she finally gathers the courage to ask, and she gestures to you sitting on her lap as though it wasn't your first time.

"why?" you whisper, finishing up the first-aid, the tip of your nose touching hers, "does it bother you, spiderwoman?

and yunjin tries. she tries her absolute hardest not to give in, because she wonders if this was all a game to you. she wonders if yesterday night had happened at all.

yunjin doesn't know why you're so calm when she had just saved your life.

she had thought that after the shock of almost being burgled, you'd be shaking like every other person would be. but instead, here you were, sitting on the edge of your fire escape, offering her half your sandwich.

she's hanging upside down, her mask only lifted high enough for her lips to be visible as she quietly accepts the food after you refused to take back your offer.

"can i ask you a question?"

yunjin nods slowly, "go ahead."

"are you always this caring towards the people you save?"

she's caught off-guard by the question and grateful that the mask was hiding her flustered expression.

"...i don't know what you mean."

you raise an eyebrow, a shit-eating grin on your face, though it did look a little strange for her from this angle, "really? well, do you bring every single one of them home? and stay a while? do you somehow know all their addresses? are you secretly a stalker?"

yunjin rolls her eyes underneath her mask, but her heart is racing. were you implying that you knew it was her?

knowing she wasn't sure of what to say, you lean closer to her masked face, and yunjin swears that she hears your breathing get slightly shaky.

"jennifer," you whisper, relishing in the way she tenses up visibly, "you know you're terrible at hiding things and how you're feeling, right?"

the last bit of sandwich she has in her hand drops, and she catches it with her web and a small yelp, making you giggle. her jaw hangs open and she racks her head, thinking how she could save this.

but, she knows, if there is any chance of anyone ever knowing about her secret, it would be you.

"how did you know?" she manages to say, her lips pursing.

"let's just say you're pretty obvious," you say, "at least, to me. and in more than one way."

"your voice, your mannerisms, and the subtle hints..."

yunjin finds herself staring at your lips. 'oh my god,' she thinks, mentally facepalming, 'is this really the best time to be dreaming about kissing her, huh yunjin?'

"wait, what?" oh. how articulate.

you let out a soft laugh at her dumbfounded tone, and she finds herself moving closer, and closer.

"if you already know who i am," you can feel her warm breath on your lips, "and you know how i feel, then, what are you going to do about it?"

"i can think of something," you say, staring at her lips, and she finally closes the gap, her lips hesitantly brushing against yours, before you cup her cheeks with your hands and you pull her close.

god, an upside down kiss. she could literally die happy now.

she could hardly register what's happening before you pull away. her lips chase yours, but you only giggle before gently pulling her mask off. there she is, the person who's been plaguing your daydreams.

"wanna come in and talk?"

"...more kisses?"

"mhm, if we talk."

"deal."

unfortunately, your roommate had called from inside, and she immediately pulls her mask back on. you're just about to apologise, but she shakes her head.

"tomorrow?" she asks, hopefully.

you pull her mask down again, just enough to give her one last kiss. she's almost afraid the web that's holding her up will break from how weak every part of her is feeling right now.

"tomorrow."

well, tomorrow was here. and fuck, she wants to kiss you again.

"wait," yunjin presses her index finger to your lips, "you promised we'd talk."

"right," you smile, opting for a kiss on her forehead instead, and she can feel the gears in her head screeching at this point, "sorry, you just look extremely kissable."

yunjin's hands settle hesitantly on your hips while your arms wrap around her neck, "what do you wanna talk about?"

"first of all," yunjin tilts her head, "what are we?"

"whatever you want," you tease, making her pout, to which you giggle, "okay, okay."

"jennifer huh," you say in a more serious voice, somehow making her posture straighten. you lean your forehead on hers, your voice laced with lovesick undertones that makes her heart melt, "i want to be your girlfriend."

yunjin can't stop herself from grinning.

"again."

"what?" you pull back a little to see her entire face. she looks happy. you love when she's happy.

"say it again," yunjin whispers breathlessly, her hand reaching up to cup the side of your face, her thumb brushing against your lips, "please."

"huh yunijn," your head feels fuzzy, but you nod as you humour her, shivering when her other hand starts playing with the hem of your shirt, "i want to be your girlfriend. that is, if you wa-"

she doesn't allow you to finish her sentence before she presses her lips to yours, making a surprised sound leave your throat. your hands tangle in her hair, and when you pull a little, you feel giddy when she whines softly.

this time, she pulls away first, but you don't chase her lips. you don't have to, anyway.

yunjin clears her throat, her blush getting redder as she gives a indifferent shrug, "sure, sure. yeah, that sounds good."

you scoff, slapping her shoulder playfully.

"okay! okay, i'm sorry, babe," yunjin pouts, and it's honestly terrifying how much of an effect she has on you already.

also. woah. babe. you're mentally giggling and kicking your feet at this point. not that you're ever gonna let her know.

"i want to be your girlfriend too," she kisses your cheek, "but, you do know what comes along with being spiderwoman's girlfriend, don't you?"

"enlighten me!"

"i mean, i'm somehow always in trouble, which means you could get into trouble, and it can and will be dangerous, and oh god, i wonder if we should even-"

"nuh uh," you interrupt, using your hand to cover her mouth.

her eyebrows furrow as she lets out muffled complaints, and you tsk at her, "you've already saved me once, jen. i'd trust you with my life. i've got your back and you have mine."

yunjin takes your hand off her mouth and she sighs in defeat, nodding, "you're right."

"aren't i always?" you question in faux offense and she snorts in return, looking at you with so much fondness that it made your heart ache.

she nuzzles her face into your neck and pulls you closer, "it means a lot, you know."

"i know."

"babe, please tell me you're almost here 🧍‍♀️"

you stand outside your home, weaving your hand through your hair, waiting for her reply. you look away from your phone and up at the sky, the blue appearing especially pretty today. then, suddenly, you see a small, dark-suited figure flying through the same sky.

you think you're hallucinating until you see the mask up close, and your eyes widen comically when your girlfriend swoops by and picks you up smoothly by your waist with one arm, her other one preoccupied with webbing. other than the deafening whistle of the air as you shot up, you hear her breathless, excited voice, "hi, babe!"

"y-yunjin!" you yelp when your legs almost land on top of a random car in traffic, "this is not what i meant by picking me up for practice!"

spiderwoman only laughs, fleeting and free, amd your breath hitches in your throat.

ah, fuck.

you bury your face in her neck, focusing on how warm and secure her arm felt around your waist instead.

"you owe me for putting me through this!"

"aw, come on! now, be honest, would you give this ride a 5 star rating?"

"yunjin!"

#le sserafim x reader #lesserafim x reader #huh yunjin x reader #yunjin x reader #kpop x reader

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iiovserii · 10 months

Text

Daddy’s Home — Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

summary: Miguel didn’t get to be picky when it came to choosing his new, forever home, as long as he was in Gabriella’s arms again. Even if it meant sharing her with you. (3.1k Words) Based on this prompt

warnings: angst, slight smut, violence (including the disposal of a body), emotional manipulation, toxic relationship

authors note: this was inspired by one of my prompts from around a week ago and i’ve been holding onto this bad boy for about a week considering it’s my first ever fanfic i’ve ever wrote..i just wanted it to be perfect 😭 in my prompt i said something about the reader being sweet but she’s a lot more firey in this because the real miguel was an asshole who was never home..but i hope you all enjoy anyways! i was hoping to create this into series so if you want to be added to the taglist let me know 💖 i’ve also added the translation at the end just because 🤷‍♀️

Link to the Ao3 ver instead!

Miguel didn’t get to be picky when it came to choosing his new, forever home, as long as he was in Gabriella’s arms again, even if it meant sharing her with you. You were littered through Gabriella’s file, a pretty hard person to miss considering the fact that you were there for every single moment of her life—the sweet cooing voice in each video of her as a baby, the delicate hands that held the small, chubby fingers as she took her first steps, and the laughter that arose from behind the camera as Gabriella pulled a funny face.

This Gabriella was the perfect fit, however perfect came with a mother that was alive and well. It was a package deal in this universe, a love intertwined with filial devotion that Miguel would just have to deal with.

But he couldn’t help the twinge of jealousy that was buried deep in his chest, even as he watched a memory of Gabriella’s first goal (a favorite of his), which was originally only celebrated by him, now being replaced by Gabriella shrieking excitedly as she ran up to her mother, throwing her arms around you in triumph.

Moments like these, so special for his little girl, fueled his deep hatred towards you. It was watching these memories where Miguel genuinely wondered if he was even present in this universe. Nevertheless, staring down at his own lifeless body made him realize just how right he was.

What was he doing outside alone, in a dark alleyway on a Friday night anyway? Why wasn’t he home with his daughter, with his wife?

Those were the thoughts that ran through his mind as he began disposing of the body—a man too selfish and weak to even protect his precious daughter. In the end, he got what was coming to him, or so he told himself to keep from feeling guilty.

He didn’t care for details, knowing he was here now to pick up the pieces of a broken family and restore it to something he could finally have a second chance with. He snapped out of his thoughts as he heard the jingle of a ringtone coming from his new phone. Swiping the phone from his pocket, he didn’t even stop to waver whether or not he should answer as he saw your name flash on the screen, rolling his eyes as he pressed accept. He pulled the device up to his ear, resting it on his shoulder and cheek as he listened to the sound of your voice.

The first thing he noticed was how tired you sounded—were you waiting for him to return home? He could imagine you laid on the sofa, eyes nervously glancing up at the clock at any given moment, a silly housewife awaiting her husband. He almost felt bad for you; it was pathetic that you would really allow yourself and Gabriella to live like that, always waiting.

He ended the call swiftly, making up some stupid excuse about how he caught up with work and would be arriving shortly. Pretty much in character for the man he just suffocated with his own hands, not raising any suspicion for you as he heard the sleepy yawn telling him that you’d be asleep by the time he got back.

However, despite the dark act he had just committed, he was willing to go to great lengths to win Gabriella's heart again. If putting this ring on his finger and pretending that the woman on the other end of the phone was his wife would grant him another chance with her, then so be it.

He wouldn’t mind playing house with you, as long as he was able to hold his daughter in his arms once more.

He felt disgusted even calling you 'wife', but for Gabriella's sake, he knew he needed to play along. It wasn't like it mattered anyway since your daughter worshipped you so much more than him.

He didn’t need you, he knew that.

However the thought of Gabriella’s eyes as they lit up when you walk in the room seemed to tell him otherwise. She needed you.

He hated the way the house was never quiet, there was always something happening.

You were making dinner? There had to be music in the background as you traveled around the kitchen, humming and singing along to whatever tune was playing on the speaker. That soft velvety voice seemed to flow through the house, and it killed him inside that he wanted to hear more of you.

Gabriella was playing outside? Well you were playing outside as well, it wasn’t like you had a choice, having being pulled away from whatever you were doing to entertain the small girl.

You had everything running like clockwork—cooking dinner while managing homework and playing with Gabriella at the same time—all without seemingly breaking any sweat or becoming frustrated.

Miguel couldn't help but admire you for being able to handle everything so seamlessly. But deep down, he still felt resentment towards you for taking over what should have been his role as the sole parent of their child.

He’d notice small things, like the way your hands flew to your face when you were shocked, it was sweet at first, until he realised Gabriella also did the same, she never did that before. He had noticed it one morning when he stood in the doorway of Gabie’s room, not trying to make his presence known as he watched the two of you play, and the scowl on his face didn’t go unnoticed as you furrowed your eyebrows at him, wondering what he looking at so intensely.

It took him the first couple of weeks to get used to your laugh, you were always laughing. It seemed to rub off on Gabriella as well, he didn’t think he’d ever seen her laugh this much, even before.

Miguel tried his best to ignore the feelings that arose in him at the sight of you playing with Gabriella, and sometimes even joined the two of you whilst you played your games. He couldn't help but feel envious of how happy the two of you looked together, reminding him of moments he could have had if only things had gone differently.

Despite these feelings, it wasn't long before Miguel began to see a different side of you. A side that made him realise why Gabriella adored you so much.

One day while cooking dinner, he noticed your eyes lighting up as Gabriella told a story about her day at school. You were so invested in her words that for once he felt like an outsider looking into your world.

He also witnessed moments when Gabriella fell ill and how tirelessly you took care of her; staying up all night by her bedside until she fell asleep or gently rubbing Vicks on her chest when she was coughing painfully.

It was moments like these when Miguel started to question his assumptions about you and wondered whether maybe—just maybe—he'd been too quick to judge.

But as much as Miguel tried to ignore it, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had buried something deep inside him. He couldn't let go of the resentment he felt towards you for replacing his role.

He started focusing on every little mistake you made, criticising your cooking and getting angry when things didn't go his way. Every time you laughed or smiled at Gabriella, it sent a pang of jealousy straight through him.

"She's too attached to you," he huffed, standing beside the bathroom counter as you both prepared for bed, "you can't even leave the room, and she's already wondering when you'll be back again."

"Well, maybe if you were around more often, she wouldn't be so reliant on me," you retorted, the soft glow of the bathroom lights casting shadows on your face, your voice laced with frustration.

His eyes narrowed as he leaned in, reaching for his toothbrush, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, of course, it's all my fault. Because you're just the perfect parent, aren't you? Always there, always available."

"You know what, maybe if you actually made an effort instead of criticizing me all the time, you'd see the bond we have is because I've been there for her when you weren't!" you retorted, your voice rising, the sound echoing against the tiled walls.

His tone grew more defensive. "I never said I was perfect, but at least I'm trying now. You could at least acknowledge that."

A mirthless smile crossed your face as you leaned against the bathroom counter, facing each other in the confined space.

"Acknowledging your half-hearted attempts doesn't erase the damage done, Miguel. It takes more than just physical presence to be a real parent."

The tension hung heavy in the air, the scent of toothpaste mingling with their argument, as the bickering between husband and wife intensified. The wounds of the past were reopened, and neither was willing to back down or see the other's perspective.

As the heated exchange reached its peak, you turned on your heels, ready to storm off, your frustration boiling over. But just as you took a step away, Miguel's hand shot out, firmly gripping your arm. The air tightened between you, the coolness of the bathroom tiles beneath your feet.

The grip on your arm only tightened, his expression a mixture of frustration and a confused longing. "You don't speak to me like that," Miguel growled, his voice firm. "You are my wife, act like it."

“You are my husband, I expect the same from you,” you snapped back, your voice dripping with defiance, refusing to back down as you swatted away his hand. “And—I will speak to you however I want.” The sound of running water from the faucet filled the silence.

A flicker of amusement crossed Miguel's face, his eyes tracing your determined form. He had underestimated your strength, your fiery spirit. Despite the frustration that lingered between them, a newfound admiration stirred within him.

"Si supiera que eras tan molesto, te habría dejado hace mucho tiempo, Muñeca," he mused, his tone tinged with a mix of fascination and curiosity, the steam from the shower filling the bathroom. “Las cosas que haría para callar esa boca tan bonita tuya.”

The intensity of the moment had rendered you momentarily speechless, steam rising in the bathroom as the warm air surrounded you both. But you managed to find your voice, albeit in a whisper, the sound barely audible over the running water.

"Now that's not fair," you murmured, the dampness of the bathroom clinging to your skin, your voice filled with a mixture of frustration and longing. "You know I don't understand what you're saying..”

A slow, mischievous smile curled at the corners of Miguel's lips, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief as he leaned in closer, the scent of shampoo and desire filling the air. And as your lips lingered so close, the unspoken desires between you both grew stronger.

“Good.”

The man currently asleep beside you, was not, to absolute certainty, your husband.

His features held a resemblance to the man you once knew, but there was a striking difference—an unfamiliar intensity in his eyes, he looked at you like he didn’t know you.

His hair fell differently, it looked more clean compared to the tousled mess due to work. You would've sworn he had a small crease in the corner of his eyebrow, but then it disappeared along with the mole on the side of his neck.

He smelled of citrus and leather before, a smell that made you turn when he walked into the room—you knew that smell more than you knew yourself.

Instead now, all you could smell was warm spice and amber. It almost made you smile when you smelt it on him as he walked past you that morning, a couple of weeks ago, until you realised that was the fragrance you got him last Christmas, the fragrance he said he hated and never wore.

The bed, too, felt subtly different beneath your weight, as if it dipped just slightly more than it used to.

It made you feel like your heart was tearing apart. On one hand, he was paying more attention to Gabriella, and she was thriving because of it. He took her to all the soccer practices, played with her and held her so tight that you’d think she’d pop.

You’ve never seen her so happy.

On the other hand, he was hardly in your presence. He hadn’t touched you for weeks, not even a kiss. The most he had done was argue with you, mostly about how close you and Gabriella was.

However, one thing that you couldn’t help but notice was the dark look in his eyes every-time Gabriella’s attention shifted toward you.

He was hardly around before, always at work, the gym or drinking with his co-workers at the bar across from town.

Nowadays it was hard for him to leave you and Gabriella alone.

Not to mention, it was like he grew twice in size. His shoulder looked broader, the veins in his arms popped, more defined. He could basically pick up your seven year old like a feather. Had he been working out more?

You shift on your pillow, eyes glancing down at his heaving chest as he slept. The only time he didn’t look so tense recently was when he was asleep. So peaceful.

You couldn’t help but reach out and dance one of your fingers on the side of his torso, quietly humming some annoying tune that wouldn’t leave your mind that morning.

"What are you doing, Gatita?" he quipped, unable to suppress a soft chuckle that escaped his lips, snapping you out of your thoughts and making you squeak.

As you tried to pull your hand away, Miguel quickly caught it in mid-air, his touch exerting a gentle but firm hold. His finger lightly pressed into your palm, a subtle reminder of his presence and it was almost like he was showing his desire to keep you near.

“What, don't you like touching your husband?" he playfully remarked, mischief dancing in his eyes. His gaze deliberately traveled down your body, as if savoring the sight before him.

Rolling your eyes and pouting, you couldn't resist the urge to make a bratty remark. "Well, it's not exactly enjoyable when the husband is such a pain in the ass." you huffed, your tone laced with a hint of childish defiance.

Feeling his firm hold on your hand, you let out a whine at the tightness. It was as if he was purposely trying to keep you close, unwilling to let you slip away. The intensity of his grip only fueled your frustration.

That’s an air between the two of you. You just couldn’t put your finger on it. The way you desperately try to search in his eyes for something, anything, that would tell you that the man you’re looking at, is, really your husband. The man you’ve spent nearly eight years with.

It’s almost like he’s trying to breathe you in, the way he looks like he’s trying to piece together your features, it makes you wonder if he even knows a thing about you.

The weight of the impending moment made you fidget, your fingers nervously playing with the edge of the bedsheet. You were acutely aware of the lingering tension between you and Miguel, and you attempt to find a way to wiggle your way out of his grasp.

A timid sigh escaped your lips, as a sense of unease settled upon your shoulders. "Gabriella will be waking up soon," you whispered, your voice tinged with a flicker of concern.

A cruel smirk played at the corner of his lips as he leaned in closer, invading your personal space. "Is my little wife hiding from me?" he sneered, his tone dripping with sarcasm and mockery. “You know she’s not getting up for at least another hour.”

Your eyes darted nervously between him and the door, your mind already jumping to potential escape routes. You couldn't help but wonder if he was purposefully trying to push your buttons with his words.

"I just don't want her to-," you began to stutter, but were cut short as Miguel's grip tightened further on your hand. "Don't worry about Gabriella," he whispered into your ear, his breath hot against the nape of your neck. “She’ll be fine.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the sensation; it stirred something within you that you couldn’t quite explain. Within the eight years of your marriage, he had never made the room feel so..heated.

You gasped at the sensation of his lips pressing into your neck, sending shivers down your spine in a wave of desire and guilt. All logic told you that this was wrong, yet there was a part of you that wanted nothing more than to give in to the heat that bubbled within.

As Miguel's kisses grew bolder and more insistent against your skin, you couldn't help but writhe beneath him.

His groan reverberated through your body, stirring something deep within as he whispered against your ear "I know I've been a bad husband," punctuating each with another kiss along the length of your jaw.

"Miguel-" Your voice trailed off into a soft whimper as he shifted so that he was hovering over you, one hand moving to fondle at the curve of your hip while the other tangled itself in your hair.

"But I'm here now," he murmured between kisses before ducking back down to press his lips onto yours once again. The taste of him flooded through you even as he reached up under-shirt slowly caressing and teasing you, making sure not too much display signs of pleasure.

As the heat continued to build between you and Miguel, he began to part your legs, eliciting a soft gasp from deep within as his intent became clear. You felt his lips curl into a knowing smile at your reaction as he watched your mean facade fall away.

"Mmm," he hummed in appreciation as his eyes roamed over every inch of exposed skin. "Looks like my little wife isn't all mouth after all." He teasingly remarked before lowering himself once again so that his tongue could trace patterns along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

The sensation left you moaning softly in pleasure at the skilled touch, completely lost in the moment. It wasn't until Miguel's fingers found their way back up to her hips that you realized just how much control he had over this situation.

"You know what?" He said with a smirk pulling back to look at her face before diving down for another heated kiss "I think maybe have to put you in line more often."

You wouldn’t mind that in the slightest.

eng translation:

1. “Si supiera que eras tan molesto, te habría dejado hace mucho tiempo, Muñeca,” — "If I knew you were so annoying, I would have left you a long time ago, doll."

2. “Las cosas que haría para callar esa boca tan bonita tuya.” — "The things I would do to silence that beautiful mouth of yours."

3. “Gatita” — Kitten

#miguel o’hara au #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x you #my first ever fanfic #hehe hah this took me too long to make..#miguel o’hara x fem reader #miguel o’hara imagine

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